Alone in the Ark
by Tonsai
Summary: Stranded, naked and alone, a man must use his wits and skills to survive a violent land full of monsters from history.
1. Awakening

I woke in pain.

Not the kind of pain you'd expect from stubbing your toe, or jamming a finger. More like pain from the worst hangover imaginable. My head felt like it was split open, and I groaned aloud, my eyes squeezed shut against the pulsing ache, as twin spikes jammed their way through my temples. Or at least that's how it felt.

I was dimly aware that I was on my back. The surface I was laid on was gritty, digging uncomfortably into my back. Bright light lit my eyes behind closed lids, and even that bit of brightness seemed to intensify the pain in my skull. I responded by squeezing my eyes shut tighter, and gripping my head in both hands, letting out another groan.

After laying there for what felt like hours, but was likely only a few minutes, I realized that the ache was dimming. The spinning feeling was slowly subsiding, and I finally opted to test my luck against the bright light.

Opening my eyes slowly, I squinted against the light, which I realized was a mid day sun hanging in the sky. I tilted my head to the side, and was met with the view of water, gently splashing against a sandy shoreline. That explained the uncomfortable feeling on my back, though not how I got here. In fact...

My mind raced as I tried to think of how I ended up here. Jumbled memories provided no answer, and I realized I couldn't remember the last few days, didn't remember anything that would shed light on my location. I didn't even live near any large bodies of water.

The confusion and shock allowed me to temporarily forget the pain in my head, and I sat up slowly, my eyes gazing around. I was on a beach, with a seemingly endless stretch of water going towards the horizon. Maybe 20 feet of sand gave way to trees, wild looking things covered in vines and moss, with scattered boulders giving the forest floor a jagged, uneven look. More of the dark grey rocks were haphazardly spread around the beach.

Looking the other way, I could see that I was actually at the mouth of a river, with another bank across the way. The water flowed outward into the ocean from more forested area, the trees giving way to the inevitable flow.

I shook my head, trying to process everything, idly scratching at an itch on my left arm. My fingers felt an unfamiliar feeling, and I glanced down, before freezing in shock.

Attached to my arm, dug into the flesh, was a diamond shaped piece of metal, inter spaced with glowing orange designs, centering around a small diamond shaped gem of the same color and glow. I stared stupidly at the foreign object, panic initially wanting me to tear it from my skin, but reason prevented me from doing anything drastic.

I inspected the device closer, and the more I looked, the more confused I got. The skin around it looked recently healed, as if the device had been cut into me, then allowed to heal over the span of weeks. I poked around it, and while the skin was slightly more sensitive than usual, it wasn't painful. The device itself looked like a dull grey steel, the orange color of the gem staying consistent regardless of the angle I looked at it from. I clasped a head over it, and finally stood myself up. My head was clearing, the pain dulling substantially.

Finally managing to put thoughts together, I tried to reach into my pocket to pull out my phone. Again, panic and surprise hit me, when I realized I wasn't wearing pants. Or underwear. Or a shirt. Looking down, I realized I was stark naked. Even my watch and wedding ring was gone, along with the chain necklace I habitually wore. I idly brushed sand from my back and legs, trying desperately not to let panic overwhelm me. I took a few slow, deep breaths, and tried to think through how this could have happened. Luckily, the temperature was balmy, a slight breeze tickling my skin, and the sand beneath my toes was soft enough that it wasn't painful standing there.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a soft sound behind me. I turned to it, and found myself looking at a small, squat bird. It looked something like a chicken, though it's beak was rounded, it's small, beady black eyes staring at me. It made another sound, some kind of strange warbling squawk, before flapping it's stubby wings a few times. Apparently deciding I wasn't interesting enough, and continued to waddle up the beach, occasionally pecking at the ground. I stared at it as it went. I had a pretty good knowledge base for the different flora and fauna of south Texas, and this thing didn't match anything I had ever even heard of. Combined with the splitting headache and my lack of clothes, I could deduce that my situation was pretty fucked up.

A shocking development, I know.

I had time to let out a harsh breath I hadn't realized I was holding, when I heard yet another unfamiliar sound. My eyes went to the forested overgrowth, and met the gaze of something staring at me. I froze in place, my body going rigid, as I processed what I was seeing. The majority of its body was hidden in the brush, but it's head and neck were exposed. It's amber eyes would be level with my own, making it close to 6 feet tall. It's skin looked scaled, like a lizard, though tufts of feathers were inter spaced along it's neck. An elongated head furthered the lizard picture in my mind, and it's mouth was opened slightly, giving me a decent view of razor sharp teeth. It met my gaze without blinking, without moving, and I continued to mirror him as my thoughts raced along. I recognized the thing, or at least something that looked like it. I'd been exposed to the movie Jurrasic Park at an early age, and despite the impossibility of it, the damn thing looked just like the velociraptors from that movie. Which was impossible. Completely and utterly impossible.

Impossible or not, the creature finally moved, a taloned hand lifting to grip a tree branch lightly, it's body centering. I had enough time to think "oh shit" to myself, before the creature pounced, 200 pounds of scales, claws, and teeth coming right for me.

While my mind may have been stupidly staring at an obvious predator, apparently my body didn't need to check in, and it took me a second to realize I was in motion. My brain caught up to my body, and I booked it, sprinting faster than I think i'd ever managed to sprint. The creature finally made a sound, a kind of piercing screech, and took pursuit. I followed the river up, opting for open ground rather than the water. For all I knew, the thing could swim faster than me, and I'd rather not try to escape into the ocean. Sand kicked up as my legs pumped, and I could hear the damn thing right behind me, could almost feel it's breath on my neck. I knew I didn't have long before it could catch me, but I'd be damned if I was going to lay down and die without making it work for it's meal.

I took a sharp corner at a pile of boulders that stood taller than a house, and my gaze landed on another impossibility. Maybe a dozen strides ahead of me, casually stomping it's way down the beach, was a gigantic turtle, the top of it's shell easily at my eye line, if not taller. The shell itself looked like dull rock, segregated into individual diamond shapes with sharp looking protrusions sticking out of the centers. It's long neck, maybe three feet long, twisted towards the sound of me running, and it's ugly face followed my motion. I didn't have time to process anything beyond that, as I sprinted past it. It's neck twisted, rolls of rough pebbled skin rolling in the motion as it watched, but otherwise did nothing.

Grasping at any idea, I juked to the side after I'd passed the enormous creature, putting it's body between me and the nightmare chasing after me, and kept sprinting. A few seconds passed, and I heard another screech from the creature, further away. I chanced a look over my shoulder to see the thing attacking the turtle, it's claws scratching uselessly on the hard shell. Two others had apparently joined the short chase at some point, and they were likewise attacking, claws and teeth flashing. I watched long enough to see the turtle stretch out it's long neck, and snap its jaws onto one of the attackers arms, and I could hear the snap of bone even as I moved. The beast let out an anguished cry, but kept attacking. I kept running.

My breathing was ragged, and sweat beaded my forehead, but I didn't stop. The river twisted a few times, both sandy banks giving way to forested areas on both sides. As the river forked, I followed the bank I was on to the left, though I could see more forested area down the right fork. Moments later, I could see an open area. Not a clearing, but easily less crowded with trees than the forest to my side. Palm trees lined small banks of sand and dirt, with streams flowing at spiderweb intervals through them. The area was about the size of a football field. At the other end, the geography rose, with hills breaking way for the river, leading to a small canyon between the two rock faces. To my left, I could see a mountain rising above the forested area. To my right, forest stretched on, giving way to smaller hills and another mountain in the distance. Boulders covered a good majority of the area, and in the center, a raised portion of earth and stone, like a natural tower, rose up maybe 40 feet, with trees and what looked like a flat surface on the top.

I didn't know many things about survival, but I figured that having the high ground when you're getting chased by impossible monsters couldn't hurt. I crossed the river at a low point, my bare feet splashing through the cold water, and booked it for the tower. A coughing bellow came from my right as I ran past, and my head snapped to the sound. Another massive beast stood there in the edge of the trees, it's eyes focused on me. It was the size of an elephant, with a huge serrated plate at the back of it's elongated head. Two long spikes, like tusks, rose from it's forehead, and a small horn like a rhinos poked from it's nose. I gaped at the creature, but didn't slow. In fact, the sight of the beast spurned my tiring legs into quicker motion, and I practically flew to my goal.

In olympic time, I hit the base of the tower, and started up a natural path in the rock and trees. It was narrow, but I was able to work my way up, twisting past small brush and shrubs. I made it half way up before the path ended, and I had to cut sharply to my left and work up the rest of the way, my legs and chest burning. By the time I made it to the top, I felt like I was going to collapse, but I quickly searched the top for signs of any other prehistoric beasts. When I didn't find anything, I quickly jetted to the tall tree standing proudly at the highest point, and quickly climbed it, pulling my tired, aching body up. The bark was rough on my bare feet, but the terror and adrenaline made me numb to it. When I felt I was far enough up, I paused and sat, trying desperately to catch my breath. The pounding of my heartbeat rang in my ears, making me partially deaf to anything else, and I had to grip a branch desperately to keep from falling. My eyes tracked the area as I caught my breath, waiting for my racing heart to slow. No more monsters popped out from behind a bush, or fell from the trees. Nothing moved on the ground below me. As far as I could hear, nothing was moving near me, and I finally relaxed slightly, leaning my head back against the trunk, though I kept my eyes tracking the hilltop.

As my body recovered, my mind raced. I fought to order my thoughts, to bring order to the chaos that my brain had become. It was impossible. The things I was seeing was impossible. I couldn't be dreaming though. A small stub of a broken branch dug painfully into my right thigh, and I shifted slightly to remove the pressure. The small pains and aches from the last few minutes told me that it couldn't be a dream. Drugs maybe? I thought through what I knew of psychedelics and hallucinogens, but that didn't fit either. Besides the loss of memory of the past few days, I had no other symptoms that would match it. My headache had vanished. My lack of clothes and the strange implant in my arm told me more than anything else. Someone, or something, had put that in my arm. Something had taken my clothes, my jewelry. There wasn't any large enough body of water within 200 miles of my home that could accommodate the ocean I'd seen. Someone had taken me here, done this to me.

My mind drifted back to the close call with monsters, and I finally admitted to myself what they were. As impossible as it was, the damn things were dinosaurs. Prehistoric creatures. I'd been a dinosaur fan as a kid, so I knew the names of a bunch of them, though I hadn't thought of them in years. But even if I hadn't been a fan of dinosaurs, I'd seen the movies. I'd recognize the popular ones anywhere. Velociraptor. Triceratops. The turtle looked familiar, though I couldn't put a name to it. The bird too looked familiar. A dodo maybe? I shook my head. As impossible as it was, obviously something didn't believe in impossible. I was currently naked, hot, thirsty, sore, tired, and seemingly abandoned in a random forest full of dinosaurs.

Oh yeah, this isn't going to be good.


	2. Tricks of the Trade

I stayed in the tree for a few more minutes, until my breathing was steady and my heart felt less like a bass drum. My mouth felt like sandpaper, and I tried to work up enough saliva to alleviate the feeling, but without luck. The dead sprint down a sandy beach hadn't been pleasant, though I suppose it was more pleasant than dying horribly. I warily made my way down from the tree, hopping the last few feet to the ground. I tracked the top of the tower, eyeing the area I'd chosen as a safe haven. The tree I'd been in was huge, easily as tall as the tower itself, and it's trunk and roots filled most of the small hill I stood on. The top of the tower itself had three small hills at the points of a rough triangle shape, with a flat surface in the middle. The tree I'd been in was the largest, but other smaller trees graced the top as well. Shrubs and bushes fell at intervals, and the grass between my toes was soft and green. I could see that I'd gotten lucky, as the way I'd come up was the only real way to reach the top, with sheer rock on the majority of the sides. If I could find a way to block off that path, I'd be as relatively safe as I could be for the time being. I walked the perimeter of the area, double checking ways up, and found nothing. A small protrusion of earth and rock jutted out in rough circle at about the middle of the tower, but was only accessible from the path I'd taken up. Isolated, high up, and defensible. I smiled despite myself. At least I had something going for me.

I spent another few crucial minutes surveying the landscape around the tower. I didn't see any other raptors, though as fast as they had been, I didn't doubt they could easily make it out of the trees and attack before I could react if I wasn't careful. The triceratops i'd passed was gone. I couldn't see anything else through the dense jungle around me, besides the mountain stretching up. I checked the position of the sun, and determined that the mountain was to my west. I eyed the canyon the river flowed through, but didn't see anything of note. I cautiously made my way back down the path, being more mindful of my steps. I paused at the sudden turn I'd made, and eyed the surroundings again, being as careful as I could. Nothing moved, though I heard plenty of bugs and sounds of the forest. I made my way slowly down the hill, until my feet met sand again. A small stream of the river flowed a few feet away from the path, and I quickly knelt down to sate my thirst, my eyes tracking every small motion of the forest.

Luckily, no monsters rushed me, and I was able to drink my fill. I quickly climbed the tower again, and settled myself under the large tree. The grass felt surprisingly comfortable under my bare skin, and I sighed lightly.

"Silver linings." I muttered to myself, and started to think, numbering my situation as I always did when there was too much on my plate.

Priorities. I had to think of priorities, or things could get complicated. Well, more complicated, at any rate. I had grown up as a geeky little kid, and had been a boy scout for years, where I learned a good amount of survival skills. I'd spent most of my adult life in the military, and had honed those skills further. I could survive in the wilderness, for a time anyways, but it wasn't going to be easy. Survival hinged on a few key factors. Water, food, shelter. For the most part, everything about surviving in any environment requires those 3 key points.

Water was easy enough. The stream I'd drank from was crystal clear. While it could potentially be hazardous from a bacterial standpoint, at the moment, it would suffice, and I didn't think I'd die from drinking it. Might spend several hours puking and shitting myself, but it's still better than death.

Food would be more difficult, but for the moment, I could manage without. An average grown man could last for roughly 3 weeks without food before he starved to death. Longer if a person is bigger, and has stores of fat to supply their body with energy. Also not a big problem. I'd seen some large fish during my dead sprint next to the river, and could fashion a spear to catch them with.

Shelter was my biggest obstacle. The weather was balmy at the moment, but depending where I was, or a turn of the weather, it could drop to freezing over night, and I wouldn't last till morning in conditions like that. I needed some form of shelter, and a fire to keep me warm.

I glanced at the sun again. I hadn't ever had to rely on that to determine the approximate time of day, but I estimated I had maybe 5 hours until it was too dark to work. 5 hours to build a makeshift shelter and start a fire. I felt myself grinning in spite of my situation, and let out a low laugh.

"Nothing like a deadline I suppose." I muttered to myself. Better get to work.

***

I didn't waste time. The easiest shelter I knew how to build was a simple lean-to. Literally just stack sticks against a solid surface, layer the top with tree boughs, and that's all you need. Given the time I had, it was my only realistic option. Fortunately, the giant tree on my tower had plenty of branches, and the green needles were spaced well. They'd provide a good cover. The hardest part was going to be getting thicker pieces of branch to serve as supports.

I quickly searched from broken branches on the ground, and was able to scrounge up half a dozen from the grounds of the tower, and along the trail itself. I dumped them by the big tree, and descended again. Once on the ground, and being mindful of my surroundings, I searched near the stream until I found a decent sized river rock, smooth and grey from however long it had sat undisturbed. I found a larger rock on the beach with a flat surface, and placed my chosen rock upon it.

After another minute of searching, I finally hefted up a rock larger than my head. Dead lifting it up, I brought it down hard onto my rock, jumping back with the motion. There was a loud popping crack, and as it rolled off, I saw that my rock had split. I inspected both sides, brushing small chips of stone out of the way, and found both had a decently jagged edge. Wouldn't be a perfect cutting tool, but it would do the job. I scanned the area again, ensuring the sound hadn't attracted any undue attention, before climbing the tower.

With my makeshift knife in hand, I started the tedious process of cutting branches from the smaller trees along the tower. Have you ever tried to cut wood with a rock? Here's something you probably already knew. It sucks. A lot. My arms were burning from the effort after a solid ten minutes of smacking the damn tree, but there was nothing for it but to keep going. Tired muscles sucked. Being dead would suck more.

It took me an hour before I was finally satisfied with the quantity and quality of the branches I'd gotten. My right hand had several blisters from the effort, and I'd worn my rock down a bit from the effort, but I had the wood I needed for my shelter. I collected all of the cut branches and hauled them over to the large tree. I had two dozen branches in total, most with a good supply of needles. Those would be crucial in keeping the weather out, and hopefully keeping the heat in. A lean to is fairly simple to make. I selected the straightest branches I had, and spent a while stripping them down, giving me four barren sticks in total. I sharpened one end on all of them, leaving the straightest and thickest to the side. That would be my primary tool for defense, although a sharp stick wasn't going to get me far against one of those raptors, it was still better than nothing.

I drove the first two into the ground, using a hand rock as a makeshift hammer, until I had them driven down far enough that they weren't wiggling. Next, I collected thin vines from one of the small trees on my tower to use as makeshift rope. I quickly lashed my last pole across the two support branches, leaving me with a decent support structure. From there, I started stacking the unstripped branches, laying them at an angle across the top, overlapping the needles. I covered both sides as well, and most of the front, stopping only to go and cut more branches. By the time I'd finished, and was satisfied with my work, the sun was low on the horizon, and I was running out of time.

I crawled into my shelter though an opening in the branches, and went to the furthest corner from the entrance. I quickly dug out a small pit with my rock tool, and spent a few minutes collecting rocks to line the fire pit. From there, I collected as much wood as I could realistically fit into my shelter, along with smaller twigs and some moss that I found growing on one of the larger rocks of the tower. Finally satisfied, I stood before my shelter in the dying light, and grinned. I was almost done, I'd made my time limit, with a bit to spare. I hurried down the path of my tower, and quickly sated the thirst I'd been feeling from the work I'd done, before returning to the top. I still hadn't seen any more nightmarish creatures, though the woods were thick enough that they could easily be close enough to attack. There just wasn't enough time to do more than I already had, and the night was coming on quickly.

One of the skills I'd learned, yet never actually thought I'd need, was starting a fire with friction. The principle behind it is actually really simple. Friction creates heat, heat creates fire. Everyone knows the image of someone rubbing a stick back and forth between their hands. It's not really any more complicate than that, but it is a bit more strenuous than one would expect. I selected a relatively flat piece of wood from my fire pile, and used a sharp protrusion of my rock to grind in a small hole. Collecting dry moss was easy, as there was plenty on the rocks of my tower, and a piled some loosely on top. It took me a bit longer to find a stick of the proper length and straightness, and eventually went back out to cut a new piece from the large tree, and sharpened one end into a dull point. From there, the rest was simple. After a few minutes and another few blisters, I had smoke, and after some slow, gentle breaths onto the moss, fire bloomed. Tears stung my eyes a bit, and not just from the smoke coming from the moss. I settled my starter into the branches I'd piled in my fire pit, and within a few minutes, I had a small but genuine fire burning.

Spending a few minutes tending the fire gave me time to realize that I was hungry. Not starving by any means, but the low rumble in my belly wasn't easy to ignore. I eyed the sky outside of my shelter, and decided I had enough time to try to catch a few fish. I piled a few larger branches onto the fire to keep it going while I was gone, grabbed my spear, and headed down. Keeping a wary eye on the woods around me, I slowly made my way down the sandy beach, towards the bend of the river where I'd seen a collection of fish. I walked in a half crouch, eyes and ears aware, my body tensed, ready to bolt at a moments notice. It was the most stressful walk of my life, even if it was only a span of about 200 feet. Naturally, nothing came to eat my face off, and I reached the bend without issue. As before, several large fish swam leisurely in the crook of the river, oblivious of their surroundings. I inched forward slowly, my spear held ready. I stood still and silent for several moments, waiting for the right time before striking. A miss would disturb the water, scaring the fish into swimming away, and I didn't want to move any further from my shelter than needed. I had to get it right the first time.

A decent sized fish swam close, idly picking at the riverbed, it's blueish scales glistening in the water, reflecting the dim light of the sunset. I tensed, waiting. When it was within range, I moved as quickly and swiftly as I could, lunging forward with the motion. The sharpened stick went clear through the fish, piecing the ground behind it, kicking up silt and sand. The sudden motion and disturbed ground caused the other fish to panic, swimming away in a sudden rush of motion. I lifted my spear from the water, and the still squirming fish upon the stick wiggled fiercely for a few moments, it's lips gasping in the air, before it finally went still. I eyed the fish for a moment, before I felt a small smile tug at my lips. Dinner. Good.

I started back to my tower, my dinner still on the spear, when a cracking thud came from the forest to my right. I froze instantly, head snapping to the sound, staring intently. The branches of the trees further in the forest were moving, groaning away from the motion of something large moving towards me. Panic wanted me to bolt back to the safety of my tower, but depending on what was coming, there was a good chance I wouldn't make it in time. Instead, looking around quickly, I dropped to a crouching run and moved behind a large rock jutting from the ground, settling on the far side from the motion in the trees. Curiosity overruled caution, and I peeked over the top of the rock to watch. It took a few minutes, and my heart pounded painfully in my chest the whole time, but eventually the creature appeared. It's head and neck came first, and I sucked in a breath of recognition. The head was squat, leathery, with a bulge prominently over it's forehead. It was connected to a long, muscular neck, with what looked like short, dull spikes at intervals on the back. Oh, and the head was easily forty feet off the ground, within a good reach of the top of the large trees that were predominant in the forest. It's body came next, and it was huge. It almost resembled an elephant, with thick, dark skin, legs like tree trunks, and large circular feet. Instead of a rope like tail that an elephant would have, it had a tail easily as long as it's neck, tapering down from it's body to an almost delicate point. The peak of it's body would easily be twenty feet off the ground. It was a behemoth of a creature, and I knew it's name. Brontosaurus, one of the most well known dinosaurs.

I watched the huge creature move slowly through the trees, occasionally pulling leaves from the trees around it, chewing lazily. I was no expert on dinosaurs by any means, but I knew that the brontosaurus was an herbivore, and not likely to come after me for a meal. Didn't mean the thing could crush me like a beer can, but so long as I didn't agitate the giant, I should be fine. I took a steadying breath, before standing and walking steadily back towards my tower. The creature didn't pay me any mind, and kept going about it's business, as i quickly, but quietly, made my way back.

I stopped at the base of my tower and drank my fill from the stream, before climbing up again, making my way back to my shelter. The fire was still burning strong, and I climbed in my lean-to, pulling the last few branches over the entrance to seal myself in. There wasn't much space inside, but I was able to sit comfortably next to my fire. I added a few branches to my fire, before I started working on my fish. There wasn't much to do, as I didn't have any tools to be able to do much with it, but I pulled the spear from it's side, and instead ran it through the fishes mouth. I used my rock tool to drive a smaller branch into the ground next to my fire, and leaned the spear into a handy crook of the stick, leaving it over the fire to cook.

I sat for a while, just staring at the fire, trying not to jump at every sound coming from outside of my shelter. The fire popped and crackled, as crickets started chirping away outside, a noisy call to announce nightfall. I rotated the stick occasionally, trying to evenly cook my dinner, as I considered my predicament. The initial danger from the Raptors, then the almost muscle memory response of needing to move and work to survive kept my mind from wandering, kept me from thinking. Now, there was nothing to do but wait until morning, and plenty of time to think.

I thought of my wife, and how she must be panicking. I could imagine her calling the police to report me missing, to the despondent look in her eyes. I thought of my daughter, so little and so innocent, not understanding why her daddy isn't home, why mommy is crying. I thought of my workmates, friends, who would be worrying, trying to continue the job without me. I thought about the very likely scenario that I'd die in this place. If there were raptors, brontos, triceratops, then it was likely that there were the carnivores too. I shivered lightly despite the warmth. T-Rex. God help me if I ran into one of those.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the first drop hit my hand. I stifled a sob, and rubbed my eyes. I might never see my family again. Never see my friends. There's an enormity to that realization, one that I had never thought of before. Death isn't ever something to take lightly, but it was always something that people generally avoided thinking about without good reason. I'd never been faced with my own mortality before now, but the realization that being in this place meant my likely death, probably soon, was a very sobering reality to face. My tears fell, and I didn't try to stop them. Hell, if there was ever a time to cry, it was now.

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside. Screw those kinds of thoughts. Sure, I could likely die here, but I sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy. I had the skills to survive. I could live, for a time at least, until I could figure out a way to escape, to find civilization, to find someone that could help.

Unless you've dropped through a wormhole into the past or something science fantasy shit like that, I thought to myself.

I pushed that thought out of my mind too, and lifted the spear holding my meal. The scales were burnt, and flaked off easily. It looked done, and I spent a few minutes eating, considering my options for the next day. The scales weren't easy to get out of the meat, and the small bones were a pain in the ass, but the meat itself was tender enough, if fairly bland, and I ate as much as I could. Once done, I lifted the branches covering the entrance of my shelter, and chucked the remainder of the fish out, over the edge of the tower. Wouldn't do well to have some scavenger coming looking for a free meal.

I settled the branches back, arranging them to my satisfaction, before adding more branches to the fire. I laid down in the slopped portion of my shelter, with my upper body closer to the fire to maintain my core's heat. I didn't expect to sleep any time soon. Too much was running through my mind, and besides, predators could easily find my shelter. Best to stay awake, try to last through the night. Keeping the fire going would maintain my warmth, and I could make a game plan for the next day. As those thoughts were running through my head, I felt my eyes drooping. I groaned low in my throat as I laid my head back. Maybe I'd just close my eyes for a minute, let myself relax. Sure, just a minute. Just a...


	3. A beacon of hope

I didn't realize i'd fallen asleep until I woke. Bright light lit my shelter from the outside, hitting my face, and I groaned lightly at the feeling. I  
rolled to the side and let my eyes open slowly. The fire had burned downed to cinders, with just a bit of orange still glowing in the ash. I eyed it for a  
moment, surprised that I'd been asleep. I hadn't even felt it come on. I sat up, stretching as best I could in the cramped space, before looking around the inside of the shelter, frowning. The light seemed...odd. Too white, too bright, too sharp. I moved to the designated entrance, and pushed a branch out of the way, peeking out, then blinked in confusion. The sky was still black, but a radiating white light lit the ground around me. I pushed more branches out of my way, and stepped out, looking around, until I spotted the source of the light, my eyes widening in a mix of emotion.

A thing sat at the top of a hill close to the tower, radiating the light that had woken me. I couldn't describe it well just by looking at it. It was diamond  
in shape, with one point nestled almost gently into the ground, the other pointed at the sky. While the thing itself gave off light like some enormous lamp, an even brighter beam of light rose from it's center into the sky, like some bizzare spotlight. A dull hum filled the air, so quiet I could barely notice it, and in fact...

I tilted my head lightly, listening. The forest had grown quiet. No bugs chirped, no crickets. The only sound I heard was that of this massive beacon.  
Curiosity warred with reason for a moment in my head, before curiosity finally beat reason down with a stick. I quickly leaned back into my shelter, grabbing my spear from where it rested, and headed out. The beacon left me plenty of light to see by, and I quickly made my way down the tower. Once at it's base, I followed it around to my north, trying to find the best way up the hill. The hill itself ended on the west side with a sheer cliff face, that led down to the river I'd noticed earlier. To the east however, it tapered down, into the forested area. I could likely find a way up not too far into the trees.

I swallowed hard at the thought. Trees hid things, and not many nice creatures came out at night. Predators would find me easy prey, especially if that beacon went out. I took a steadying breath, then headed towards the tree line, hoping to find a relatively safe passage without going too far into the forest.

I moved with a slow, quiet pace, my eyes and ears alert for danger, as I scoped out the terrain. I was able to see a natural grouping of rocks at the edge of the hill, the lowest point I could see, and decided that my best course would be to climb the rocks to the hill, and move up from there. I quickly made my way to the rocks, wincing as sharp little pebbles dug into my bare feet. I scaled the boulder as quickly as I could, which was to say, not that quickly. Turns out doing rock climbing with bare feet is a bitch. Once on top, I hopped between rocks until I found myself at a small crevice between the rocks and solid ground. The hill itself dropped down suddenly, leaving a gap of about 3 feet. I took a preparatory breath, then jumped the distance, dropping to a knee

as I hit, my spear ready. Nothing moved in the darkness around me, but I remained that way for a moment. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized i'd been holding, then quickly made my way up the hill.

As I got closer to the beacon, the humming in the air increased, until I could physically feel it on my skin. Up close, I could see that the beacon seemed to be made of an almost crystal like material, though I'd never seen crystal throw off light like this thing was. Streaks and streamers of white flowed beneath the surface, and I walked steadily around the thing. It stood a good 15 feet high, and this close, I had to narrow my eyes against the light. I was close enough to touch the thing, but hesitated in doing so. God only knew what this thing was, and what it could do to me.

Then again, I thought to myself, I'm already in pretty deep. Can't get much worse than it already is.

I pondered that thought for a moment, then nodded. I make a good point.

I reached out, and despite my thoughts, it was still a bit nerve racking. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then set my palm flat against the surface.

Three things happened.

The entire beacon pulsed, like a stream being disturbed by a large stone being thrown in. The colors of the thing rippled away from my hand in a single blur of beautiful colors.

The gem in my arm, all but forgotten until then, lit up brilliantly with the same white light as the beacon. I jerked back in surprise, flinging my arm out in a futile gesture to throw away the device.

And four lines appeared where my hand had been, forming quickly into a medium sized rectangle. Once formed, there was a quiet but distinct click, and the rectangle opened, like a hatch had suddenly appeared.

I froze for a moment, eyeing the beacon, before inching forward to look inside. I saw cloth, and joy gave way to caution. I quickly grabbed the contents, dimly noting that it seemed to be a cloth bag, and pulled it from the insides. Once empty, the beacon closed again, the lines disappearing quickly, then silently began to rise back into the sky. I felt like I should have jumped in surprise at the sudden motion, but I guess I was becoming attuned to weird shit, and I didn't even flinch. Instead I watched it rise for a moment, before common sense suddenly jumped up and kicked me in the brain. My light source was the beacon. The beacon was currently leaving. I was standing in a forest. Full of dinosaurs.

Shit.

I started back down the hill, moving as fast as I dared, trying to be mindful of my surroundings. The bag wasn't very heavy, but it made running with it and my spear a bit more difficult. I quickly jumped the small space between the hill and rock, and descended, adding a few more cuts to my already torn up feet. I winced, but tried to ignore it. As I hit solid ground again, a screech sounded from behind me. I didn't freeze this time, but moved even faster. I recognized the sound. The raptors from earlier had made the same kind of screech, and I wasn't fixing to sit around and wait to see where they were.

I broke into a dead run, sprinting between rocks and trees, until I found myself at the base of my tower again. I quickly found the path, and the light from the beacon was already dimming, throwing the area into darkness again. I tried not to groan as I hurried up the trail, eyes straining to see in the failing light. My breath was getting ragged as I finally made it back to my shelter, and I crouched beside it, looking over the edge of the tower towards the hill.

Movement rustled the brush at the edge of the trees, and I saw a glimpse of one of the raptors, it's tail swishing as I ran past. I felt myself holding my breath, but released it after seeing the creature run off, further into the trees. Seconds later, the dim light that was left from the beacon flickered off, leaving me in darkness again.

I spent a moment catching my breath, breathing the cooling air of the area, before slipping back into my shelter, groping around a bit to find my way. I pulled the tree branches back over the entrance, then set my spear and prize aside while I coaxed the fire back to life, adding fuel and blowing gently onto the dim embers. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the fire was burning dimly again, illuminating my shelter in a cheery, if dim, light.

That done, I settled down beside the fire, and pulled the bag to me. It seemed to be a thin cloth bag, the stitching holding it together uneven and ragged. One end was tied securely with a length of parachute cord, the green color looking black in the dull light. I untied it with trembling hands, and started pulling the contents out. A pair of fabric shoes was first, the soles made of what looked like layers of cloth, with something thicker sandwiched between. I grinned at that. I'd take what I could if my feet would quit hurting. Clothes followed, made the same way as the bag. Pants, a shirt, a thin pair of gloves without fingers, and a large square cloth that could be used in a variety of ways. Beneath those was an axe, with what looked like a dark, sharpened stone for the blade, settled between a thick piece of what seemed to be oak, and more parachute cord holding it in place. I fiddled with the tool for a moment, ensuring it was secure and sharp. While not a modern tool, it would surely beat trying to use a broken piece of rock. Beneath that was a knife made in the same kind of way, secured in a fabric sheath. Upon drawing the knife, the blade turned out to be a piece of jagged obsidian, the light from the fire reflecting off the black glass looking substance. The sheath itself was wrapped with more cord, to use as a kind of belt or strap. Finally, I pulled a small rectangle from the pouch, and inspected it. A piece of flint, jagged in places, but sound. I grabbed my cutting stone, and struck it along the edge of the flint, sending sparks flying at the motion. I grinned at that. Fires would be far easier to make now.

I donned the cloth clothes, enjoying the simple pleasure of having clothing on again, even if they weren't the most comfortable. At least my personal parts could remain personal. After unwrapping the cord belt for the knife, I secured it around my waist, letting it hang off my right hip. Next, I inspected the axe closer, finding the stone relatively sharp, and very well secured. I was meticulous in seeing how it was built, trying to commit the design to memory, in case it should break or get lost. It seemed that the wood handle had been burned through near the top, with the stone wedged into the hole, then secured with para cord. A fairly simple design, though effective. I even knew the process of creating a hole in wood like whoever had built this had done. Lacking any way to sheath the tool, I set it aside.

With my heart rate finally settled, I laid myself back down. The beacon was an interesting development. I had already figured out that this forest wasn't a natural location, but the beacon added a new element to the mix. These tools were hand made, and not quickly either. There were plenty of more effective modern tools, but these were primitive. It implied to me that someone, or something, was controlling this environment. I idly scratched the skin near my implant as I followed that train of thought. Dinosaurs, amnesia, floating crystal beacons, the lights from my implant, the implant itself. It all added evidence that this was some kind of experiment, or maybe a kind of game. If that was the case, then there would have to be an end point, a resolution. It could be as simple as waiting to see how long I could survive, or possibly if I could escape this jungle and find my way home.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by a new sounds, one that sent a shiver down my spine, and goosebumps rose on my arms. To call it a roar would be an insult to the sound. It was more than sound, it was almost a physical thing that I felt with my entire body. The ground trembled beneath my back as it split the night, and I immediately sat up, my hand going to the knife at my side. A squeal followed closely on the heels of the roar, but was abruptly cut off.

There was dead silence for an infinite moment, no insects chirping, no sounds of the forest, only the slight crackling of my fire, and my own fearful breath. Then I heard a dull thump, followed closely by another. And another. And another.

I swallowed hard, my body frozen in fear. Footsteps. Enormous footsteps. I tried to track the sound as best I could, and realized slowly that they weren't getting closer. It was hard to determine the distance away, but it didn't seem close enough to be right on top of me. Despite my fear, and the adrenaline causing my hands to shake, I still inched myself forward, and slowly lifted the branches of my shelter, peeking out. The night was dark, but there was enough moonlight to illuminate the general terrain. From my vantage point, I saw nothing moving, but I could only see out to the east of my tower. I swallowed again, trying to force courage into my shaking limbs, then slid my head slowly out, gazing around. When I still saw nothing, I finally pulled myself quietly from the confines of my shelter, standing in a half crouch, eyes tracking wildly around me. I heard a splashing noise, and dropped lower, inching forward to the edge of the tower, my footsteps soft and light. Reaching the large outcropping of rock, I poked my head slowly over and gazed down, before finally seeing what had pulled me from my thoughts.

It looked like it had come down from the mountain to the west to reach the river. It's head was currently dipped down, and enormous jaws tearing into a large , fat, pig looking animal. Half of the pig was already gone, swallowed into the gaping maw of this terrifying beast. It stood on two huge, muscular legs, with a long tail similar to the brontos. It's body was enormous, it's skin looking black in the dim light. Two arms, tiny in comparison to it's body, were perked close to it's chest. It lifted the remaining parts of the pig, and swallowed them down in a curiously bird like motion, it's jaws snapping closed, giving me a decent view of teeth longer than my forearm. I stayed absolutely still, internally cursing myself for even thinking of coming out to see.

Probably the most well known dinosaur in the world was finishing his meal not fifty feet away, and my squishy flesh would probably make a great dessert.

I did absolutely nothing. Carefully.

The T Rex lowered it's face again and drank deeply from the river, it's tongue lapping out, before lifting itself up again, it's eyes gazing around. It's head was only a few feet below the edge of the tower, meaning I was only about 10 feet above it. That gave me some comfort, but not a whole lot. If it noticed me, or if I attracted it's attention, It would likely mean my death. For whatever reason, the thought of being eaten by a T Rex caused a giggle to try to bubble up from my chest, and I fought to keep it down. What the fuck is wrong with me? I thought to myself. I have a very weird defense mechanism to imminent death. God.

Luckily, the creature didn't notice me, and instead turned and started back up the mountain, it's footsteps causing small tremors in the ground. I stayed frozen to my spot for a time, even after the Rex was out of my sight, and the sounds of the jungle returned. I finally managed to force my body into movement, and quickly retreated back to my shelter. I sat beside the fire, my limbs shaking, and tried to clear the fog of terror from my head. With a lack of anything better to do, I grabbed a stick from my firewood supply, and began poking at the fire, waiting for the adrenaline to work itself from my body.

I needed to escape.

The simplicity of that thought made it easier on my thoughts. At first light, I'd set off, and try to make it most of the way up the mountain. It was fairly barren on this side, and I'd seen what looked like a fairly straightforward path up to the top. If I could make it to high ground, I could get a scope of the terrain, and get a plan in place for getting away. Maybe even get a view of civilization, if I was lucky.

I settled myself onto my back after adding more fuel to the fire, and closed my eyes, my hand casually touching the kinfe at my side for reassurance. With luck, I'd have a better idea for a game plan tomorrow, and hopefully a way forward. Luckily the Rex was big enough that I'd see it coming from a long way off. The raptors seemed to favor the forest, and when I'd checked the mountain out earlier, all I'd seen were some birds near the top. Unless they were crazy enormous dinosaur birds or something, they weren't going to pose a problem. I nice stroll up a mountain, some sight seeing. What could go wrong?


	4. Karma

Another chapter down. I work on these when I have down time at work, so hopefully some of y'all enjoy the story. I'd started to write more into the inventory, leveling and engrams, but wasn't liking where it was going. I might still try to incorporate some method of those mechanics from the game, but I doubt it. I'm wanting to focus the story more on the survival aspect, rather than an RPG/gaming aspect, and it felt too much like writing a video game trying to put that in. Guess we'll see how the story progresses and if I can make it work without sounds TOO cheesy. Anyways, enjoy.

-Tonsai

* * *

I've never been religious. I mean, the idea of a heavenly figure watching everything everyone does at all times just didn't jive with me. It's not necessarily that I don't want to believe in a God, or gods, or higher powers, it's just that it never made much sense to me. The idea of a plan, a divine economy, predestination, all of that, seemed like bullshit to me. More than likely, we're not any different than any of the other thousands of animals on our planet. You wouldn't think that a monkey, or a bear, or a cat would die and go to heaven. Why on earth would a human?

That being said, like most people, I believe in the normal superstitions. Karma, for example. The idea that what you put into the universe is what you get back. If you're good, you get good back. If you're bad, life is bad. That didn't seem as harmful to me as religion in general, and it helped with being a good person. I also tended to believe in Jinx's. Maybe I should have knocked on wood.

So anyways, there I was, sprinting away, as a crazy enormous dinosaur bird chased me across a mountain.

Karma can be a bitch sometimes.

The morning had gone well enough. I'd woken at dawn, went through a decent morning routine, including catching myself another fish for breakfast. I'd loaded myself up as best I could, with my new clothes, knife, and spear, before setting off up the mountain. I'd encountered more dinosaurs, including a squat, armored creature I believe was called an ankylosaur. It's spiked armor and heavy, mace like tail had scared me at first, but the beast had simply eyed me as I walked slowly by, chewing lazily on a bush, and made no move to attack.

After that, I was set upon by a group of tiny little creatures that looked like raptors, but ran in a group of 4 or 5. I'd fought them easily enough, stabbing two with my spear, and chasing the others off. I'd strung the dead ones on the rope that doubled as a belt for my knife, keeping them for dinner that night, before continuing on. I was nearing the top when I'd heard another unfamiliar sound. The piecing screech shocked me, and as I turned, the bird was almost on me, its beak red with blood. It looked like an eagle and vulture had an ugly, enormous love child. Its wings spread a good fifteen feet, it's brown and black feathers tufted, it's face scarred from its own battles. It had snuck up on me perfectly, and while I'd love to say that I grimly faced the bird down, with my spear in hand, ready to do battle, the reality was somewhat more embarrassing. I let out a sound somewhat between a squeak and a scream, and ran.

Don't judge me.

My legs were already tired from the hike, but the terror and adrenaline that were becoming all too familiar spurred me on. I kept glancing over my shoulder as I booked it, tracking the giant bird. The wind displacement from its wings sent gusts of dirt and dust flying up as it kept close, and I could damn near smell the thing behind me. My heart pounded, my arms pumped, and I kept moving towards a light forest on the side of the mountain, hoping to bog the creature down with the branches and vines.

I'd had some pretty incredible luck in the last day, between the raptor escape, the tower I now called home, and the beacon, but I guess there is balance in the universe, and eventually luck does seem to run out. Mine decided that now was a good time to stop. As my foot came down, a rock shifted beneath it, and before I could react, I slipped.

Falling in a chase is never a good thing. There's a reason why the term "He fell" is a synonym with "He died." You can't do a whole lot from your back, and especially not if you're being chased by a monster.

I fell.

The ground met me with a resounding flash of pain, and I rolled several feet, before my back slammed into a rock formation below me. My breath left my lungs forcefully, and my head spun as I struggled to draw in air. Stars flashed in my vision, giving the giant bird swooping towards me an almost angelic look. It let out another screech that sounded like victory, and it landed, its wings fully spread, blocking the sky and boxing me in. My vision was filled with nothing but feathers and the beast's giant beak. My nose was overwhelmed from the scent of decay and the metallic smell of blood. Though I was still woozy, I managed to lock gazes with the bird, its beady black eyes staring me down, an almost indiscernible bloodlust flooding its vision.

It made another sound, almost akin to a purr, its head cocking slightly as it looked at me. My hands moved almost of their own accord as I felt my jaw clench, and I glared back at the beast, refusing to show fear. I saw its body tense, could almost feel the tension in the air. Time seemed to slow, as I watched individual feathers rise in anticipation. Saw it's brow lift slightly, its beak clenching closed to pierce my soft human flesh. In the span of a heartbeat, sound seemed to stop, and everything was frozen in a crystalline moment.

The beast lunged, and I moved faster than I thought possible, jerking my neck and upper body to the right. Its beak missed my neck by inches, but I still felt its jaw brush my shoulder as it struck the rock beneath my back. In the same motion, my hand blurred up, the obsidian knife flashing in the early day sunlight, and I drove the blade into the bird's head with all my strength, right in the space behind the monster's eye. It reacted immediately, lifting its entire body up in an arch of pain, and a resounding screeching scream split the air. It stayed in that position for a moment, its whole body frozen, before crumpling backwards and landing with a plume of dust onto the ground, it's leathery, thick legs still twitching, talons clenching at invisible prey.

I lay there panting heavily, my chest and back screaming in pain at me, as I tried to process everything. I was still alive. That was a bonus. The bird was dead, or dying. Another bonus. I groaned out loud, and managed to roll myself over, and lifted myself to a kneeling position. I spit onto the ground, blood and saliva mixed more or less evenly. I'd bit my cheek during the fall. It took another solid effort for me to stand, but I managed it, and took a few steps upward to look down at the bird.

Blood streamed steadily from the wound, and its body was completely still. Its beak was open slightly, and I could see its tongue rolled back in its mouth. The beady black eyes that had been so intent not moments before were glazed over in death, and I shuddered lightly despite myself. My body ached, my lungs burned, and I had several scratches and cuts from the chase, but somehow, I'd managed to come out alive.

Go me!

I shook my head, leaned down, and after some effort, pulled the knife from the birds head. It let loose with a sickly sucking sound, and blood spurted with it. I wiped the blade relatively clean on the beasts feathers, before returning it to its sheath. Searching the ground around myself, I finally found my spear, which had dropped during my fall. I grabbed it up, searched my immediate area to make sure no more dangers lurked, then finally sat on a handy rock, waiting for my heart rate to slow, and my breathing to come out of overdrive. The attack had happened so suddenly, it seemed like I had run off of pure reflex. Hell, I hadn't made a conscious decision to pull the knife out, I was barely able to keep my eyes open after that fall. It was just in my hand, and I'd attacked without thought. I glanced at the dead bird again and shuddered.

Once my breathing was finally under control, and my heart rate had slowed to relatively human speeds, I finally started back up the mountain. Despite the setback from the chase, I found myself close to the top, and on another natural path. I passed several more rock formations, and actually paused at one to study it closer. Upon closer inspection, I found what looked like iron inter-weaved through the massive rock. I gaped at that. Naturally occurring iron in stone is remarkably rare to find on the surface these days, considering the last 100 years of advancements in engineering. Looking around, I could see several more stones that likely contained more of the metal as well.

I continued up the mountain as I thought over that discovery. There was no way in hell I was still in America then. The industrial age pretty much guaranteed that I wasn't going to find raw iron like that just sitting around. Not that I necessarily figured that I WAS in the states anymore, but it was still one more hint towards where I could be. South America maybe? Somewhere on the coast, where the use for iron wasn't yet developed. That might track. Maybe an island, my own little Jurassic park where I'd somehow been dropped.

I sidestepped another few boulders, and found myself facing an even steeper incline. I dropped to all fours, and slowly crawled my way up, being mindful of my feet and hands. A drop from here would be much worse, and a very long, painful fall. Not only would it likely kill me, it would hurt the entire time. Not a great way to end my survival adventure. Hand over hand, I worked my way up, before finally finding a decent lip with my hands. I lifted myself up with a grunt of effort, and stood. Though there was still a bit to go, I was close enough to the top for my purpose, and I turned for the first time to see the rest of the area.

It was hard identifying the feeling that I felt upon the sight before my eyes. Beauty, fear, despair, terror, stubbornness, avarice, with just a sprinkling of sadness. The emotions meshed into something that didn't have a name, but left me feeling stoic, almost numb, in some strange contradiction. I stood, my face a mask, my emotions oddly calm, and tried to process what I could see.

I was definitely on an island. Greens and browns gave way to blue every way I looked, except to my west, where a snow covered mountain miles in the distance blocked my view. I didn't need to see past it though, I knew already that I was surrounded by water. Several mountains stood in view, with one in particular looking exactly like a volcano in what seemed to be the center of the island. The island itself seemed to be mostly forest, though I could see some plains in the distance, and on the southeast side of the mountain I stood on, a dense looking swamp sat between hills. Rivers and streams ran like spider webs through the landscape. Further to the north, I could see the mouth of the river where I'd woken up, and I followed the river back to my tower, and could make out the tree that marked my shelters location. The top peak of the mountain blocked most of my northeast view.

Despite the beauty of the landscape, it was all only secondary to me, sub thoughts in my mind as I took in what had my full attention, and the real reason I was frozen in place atop a mountain.

There were three of them, each a different color. I had no idea what to call them, but my mind provided me with a name anyways. Three massive obelisks, taller than the clouds, were spaced across the island. The objects were enormous, floating above certain points on the island. The closest to me was lit with a deep sapphire blue, a shaft of light the same color shot up from the ground at its base, lighting the inside of what looked like 4 huge prongs closed together. An oblong diamond lit the same blue sat near the top. I couldn't see the top of the object, high above the clouds, despite my own height. The other two were shaped the same, though the one to my west was a brighter crimson red, while deep to the south, almost out of sight, an emerald green light flashed from the third. The objects were clearly not human made, and seeing them, taking in the sheer size of the objects, was mind boggling.

As I stood staring at the obelisks, my mind raced. I could accept that maybe someone could manage to hide an island of dinosaurs somewhere on earth. Difficult, yes, but maybe not impossible. These things though, were a much different story. This changed everything. The obelisks were so massive, there was no possible way that they wouldn't have been noticed by now, with the advent of technology. I raised my arm and stared at the implant in my arm. The diamond there glowed with its dull light, and I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it, but I didn't think I was on my planet any more. Aliens, inter-dimensional travel, wormholes, more science fiction shit, but obviously this wasn't fiction. I was here, stuck on an island, with three massive structures and some seriously badass dinosaurs that wanted me for lunch.

Things just kept getting better and better.

I sighed, still slightly in shock, before I shook my head, and continued up the mountain. Might as well get the best view I could of the area before going back down. I followed a worn path upward, deep in thought, my legs and feet moving almost mechanically. If I actually was on a different planet, then escape wasn't a possibility. That shifted my priorities drastically, from a purely reflexive response. My choices were quite simple. Survive, or die. I gritted my teeth at that thought. I was far too stubborn to even consider dying, despite my circumstances. Which meant I had to survive, at whatever cost. If whoever, or whatever, had gone through the effort of leaving me here, they did it for a reason. If there was a reason, then that meant there was a resolution. Possibly a way to get back home, if I could figure out what that resolution was.

My thoughts snapped back into focus as I reached the summit. The area itself was a decent sized, relatively flat surface, with more of the iron rich rocks spread heavily around the ground. I frowned as I also noticed several large outcroppings of what looked like crystal, shaped almost like a small bush, with multiple spikes of the dull, glass like substance jutting into the air. The extra height gave me a better view of the surroundings, and I immediately noticed another small island off to the north. Scoping the landscape, I saw that it was actually close to where I'd woken, though the main island and it were separated by roughly a quarter mile of ocean. I could also see what looked like another beacon sitting almost on the center of the island, though rather than the bright white of the one I'd encountered, this one was instead a deep red, nearly the same color as the obelisk. Interesting.

From this vantage point, I was able to see the entirety of my surroundings, and I was able to pick out more dinosaurs that I had yet to see. Pterodactyls, another dinosaur favorite, flew lazily near the head of the beach. I noticed a few stegosauruses not far down the west side of the mountain. Two bronto's stomped gracelessly through the forest to the south, their elongated necks easily visible above the tree line. I could see more, many more, but couldn't easily identify them. More of the enormous birds I'd encountered earlier floated along close to the bronto's, and I even caught a glimpse of a pack of raptors racing through the trees, chasing some unfortunate prey.

I shook my head again in wonder. Never would I have imagined that I would be in a place like this, surrounded by such incredible creatures. Terrifying, no doubt, and most of them seemed to want to eat me, but from a distance, without immediate danger, it was easier to appreciate how rare of a sight this was. I was seeing things that no one else in history had ever seen. Creatures that were still myth's in parts of the world. It was scary, sure, but also incredible. I felt a smile tug at my lips, despite everything, and gave in, letting myself grin. Sure, I was likely going to die. So many dangers, and I was just me, with nothing but a rock knife and a sharp stick. But dammit all, I wasn't going to just lay down and die. Another giggle bubbled up from my chest.

" _I will survive_ " I sang off key to myself, smiling. Gotta take my humor where I could get it.

I took in the view for another few minutes, trying to analyze my surroundings, focusing on the tower. I needed to have a good mental picture of what the terrain was like close to my determined home. I had just decided to head back down, and my muscles had even tensed to take a step, when I noticed something different. I turned and focused, straining my eyes to get a better view. Past the canyon next to my tower, half hidden by trees and a jutting rock formation, sat what looked like a log cabin. I was shocked still as I stared at it. As far off as I was, I couldn't get any details beyond the general shape of it, but I was sure of what I was seeing. I couldn't see any movement, nothing to indicate a human presence, but it was definitely man made.

Excitement like I'd rarely felt in my life flooded me. Maybe I wasn't alone after all! I started my way back down the mountain, moving faster than strictly needed. Human or not, shelter or not, it was the only other sign I'd had of some kind of human presence, and I needed to investigate. While I could hope for many things, between food, water, human interaction, or even some insight into this island, if I was being honest with myself, I just hoped they'd have a beer.

I know, wishful thinking. A man can dream, can't he?


	5. Evidence of survival

The descent down the mountain was far less stressful than going up. Partly due to my nerves of steel, iron will, and dedication to mindfulness. But mostly because from the high ground, I could pick out the path with the least amount of face eating dinosaurs. Little of both, really.

Look, just give me this one alright? Iron will. For sure.

It took most of an hour to reach the bottom, and by then, the sun was past the midday point, my lips and mouth were dry, and hunger rumbled in my belly. As I stopped by the stream at the base of my tower to quench my thirst, I debated taking the time to catch a fish for lunch, or even cook one of the two small dinosaurs still tied off to my rope belt, but decided against it. I could ignore the hunger until I got back to my shelter for the night, and I wanted to investigate the cabin immediately. I did take the time to climb up the path to my shelter and drop off my meal for later. No point in dragging along two carcasses, especially with scent based predators roaming around.

That done, I descended again, and set off up the stream, being careful of my steps on the river bank. Being mindful of my surroundings, I entered the small canyon, following the water's edge. There wasn't a definite path, and I had to rock hop occasionally to make my way. At one point, I found myself stuck at a point where there were no more rocks to hop to, and had to back track, making my way across more boulders to the other edge of the river, and continuing up. Occasionally using my spear as a walking stick, I was able to make decent time.

After a bend in the river, the canyon widened out, and I found another wide area with multiple portion of the river, along with several sandy banks, and more rock structures. Several dinosaurs roamed the area, though none of them immediately seemed to be carnivores. I caught sight of a family of triceratops further up, with a much smaller infant between them. I steered clear of them, hoping to not raise their ire. Parents in the animal kingdom could be awfully protective of their young, and I wasn't looking to test the theory that dinosaurs were the same way.

Birds flew around freely, species that I'd never seen before. Several more of the squat birds waddled around the shores. I didn't know for sure if they were Dodos or not, but in my mind, it didn't really matter, and I decided to call them such anyways. A large Parasaur walked calmly by me, identified by their spikey crown ridge on their head, thick body, and strong legs. Another herbivore, and fairly tame as I recalled. It snorted at me, but otherwise ignored my presence. Worked for me.

I continued up, following the river, and the canyon narrowed again, until there was no shore to work with. I winced at that, but followed as close as I could to the canyon wall, my feet shin deep in the water. After another slight bend, the canyon abruptly ended, and I found myself looking out into a huge area that I'd seen from the mountain top. To my right was a relatively clear field, with a gigantic rock structure, easily the size of a skyscraper, sitting proudly in the center. To my left, a short bit of sandy shore gave way to a forest, less dense than what I'd seen close to my tower, but still thick enough that I could only see a few dozen yards into it. Further south, the river forked again, and I could see what looked like marshlands after a decent sized pond. The rest of my view was obstructed by the tall trees, but all that was secondary to me anyways. I could see what I was there for.

In would almost seem like a picture right out of a painting. The cabin sat in a small alcove of the rock formation, and it had been well positioned. The tower of stone would provide shade during the early day, and the trees to the west would help in the afternoon and evening, leaving it exposed to the sun only during mid-day. The walls were made of felled and stripped logs, stacked well and insulated with what looked like moss and mud, even possibly clay. A small window, with wooden shutters that could close it off, sat open next to a plain wood door, which looked to have been made from hand cut boards. A chimney rose from the back corner of the sloped roof. I couldn't see how the tiles of the roof had been made, but it seemed to be clay as well, providing protection from the weather.

It would be a beautiful picture, if not for what had happened to the meticulously crafted building. The log sides had deep gouges furrowed out of them, and a large chunk was missing completely, as if a massive clawed hand had simply ripped the wall apart. The shutter for the window lay on the ground, split in half. The door likewise was torn to shreds, and half of the roof had collapsed, leaving the home looking like a picture out of a horror movie. I stood there frozen as I took in the sight, disappointment and terror warring for my attention. The ground near the cabin was likewise torn up, deep furrows from claw marks marring the short grass. I grimaced, looking around warily. Whatever had happened here was obviously over. Several small birds were perched on the peak of the roof, staring at me. Another pig, like the one the Rex had eaten the night before, wandered by in the tree line, sniffing at the dirt. If there were any predators nearby, I'd imagine the prey would be long gone.

I made my way to the cabin door, gingerly stepping over the broken pieces of door with my still wet feet, and stepped inside. The furnishing was sparse, as I suppose would be expected for what could be handmade. A roughhewn table sat in one corner, with what looked like pottery dishes set to one side. A handmade chair was toppled beside it, the woven seat torn. The fireplace in the back corner was undisturbed, and a cooking pot made of the same type of pottery sat on a tripod. A bed made of woven cloth, stuffed with some kind of material, was in the opposite corner of the table, and a decent sized, if ramshackle, cabinet filled the rest of the space.

Dried blood smeared most of the area, though there was no sign of a corpse. Splatters of it had hit every piece of furniture to one degree or another, and my imagination painted a picture of what had happened. Some kind of predator, possibly a rex, had torn open the roof, and simply pulled the occupant from their safe haven, maybe while they were sitting at their table. I grimaced again, closing my eyes, trying to clear the picture from my head.

I look a deep breath, and began to scrounge up what I could. The person who had put so much time and effort into this home was dead. There was no point in leaving potential survival implements out to rot, not if it could save my own life.

Despite that thought, I still felt terrible going through a dead person's stuff. Just didn't seem right to me. Regardless of my hesitation, I still moved almost mechanically, and was glad that I did. Upon opening the cabinet, I was greeted with a beautiful sight. A pickaxe made of iron sat in a corner, and several sets of handmade clothes were neatly stacked on shelves, along with more clay pots, a coil of braided rope, and a heavy handled hammer with a head made of more iron. I inspected the contents of the pots, and found one contained a deep orange powder, another held a sticky, grey, resin like substance. Two more were filled with black, spherical berries, and the last held a thick, smelly, off-white substance. An empty leather water skin hung by a strap from a peg, along with a sturdy looking, wood framed backpack.

I started pulling items from the cabinet, and laid it all out on the table. Righting the chair, I sat the pack on it, and began to load items into it, being careful with the filled pots. I grabbed the dishes from the table, and the pot from the fireplace as well, taking a moment to study how the tripod had been made, as well as the fireplace itself. It seemed like the stones, mostly river rocks, had been sealed with something almost akin to caulking, and I realized that it must be the same grey substance I'd found in the cabinet. I debated trying to take the bed as well, but decided against it, instead taking my knife and cutting it open, emptying out what seemed to be a mix of cotton and dried moss, then packing the now empty cloth form in as well. The bag was bulging, but I managed to close over the flap, and secure it with a thin line of more handmade rope.

Giving the single room one more look, I noticed something in the back corner behind the table, hidden behind a leg. Frowning, I pulled the table out, and found a book, its cover bound in what seemed to be a thick leather, its pages yellowed and dry. Likely self-made paper then, not produced. It proved to be a journal, the handwriting tight and neat, slightly smudged. A name was written at the top, though the writing was faded and smudged enough that I could just barely make out a few letter. Helene? Helena? Something with an H. Interesting. Along with the book, a piece of black something was on the floor as well. Inspecting it, it proved to be a thin piece of wood that had been burned near a sharp tip. A makeshift pencil then. I packed the book and pencil away as well, hefted the bag onto my back, gripped the pickaxe lightly in a hand, and left the cabin.

I can use the excuse of being distracted by finding so many helpful survival items, or even my thoughts considering a journal that might shed some light on my situation. But, being honest with myself, it was simple carelessness. I'd been so careful since I woke up yesterday, being mindful of my surroundings, trying to keep my head on a swivel. I had no one to blame but myself for being surprised by the sudden appearance of the thing before me.

It wasn't big, maybe as tall as a decent sized dog. It had the same general body type as most of the other common bipedal dinosaurs, with muscular back legs, shorter arms, a long tail, and sharp teeth. A layer of spikes covered its head, neck, and back, almost like individual hair follicles. A sheath of thin skin seemed to drape its neck, and as I startled the beast, that skin immediately rose outward, in an umbrella motion, and it hissed at me viciously, it's body tensing.

Reflexes took over, and I quickly juked to the side, and once again, I was grateful for my body's reaction. Greenish yellow fluid, viscous and smelly, shot from the creature's mouth, and missed me by inches. I centered my weight, and swung the pickaxe with all my strength, driving it sideways towards the creature. The little beast was quicker than I expected, and I barely managed to clip its arm, causing it to screech at me. I darted forward as fast as I could, weighed down slightly by the bag. It reared again, its jaws opening, another hiss erupting from its throat.

Rather than swinging the pickaxe again, I lashed out with a foot, driving it up under the things chin. Its mouth abruptly closed with a sharp snap, and in the same motion, I brought the pick down, and drove the sharp iron tip into the creature's neck, slamming my foot down onto the ground in the motion, putting all my weight into the blow. Blood burst from the wound, and the creature flailed against the weapon, either too stubborn or too dumb to realize that it was already dead, its body just hadn't caught up with the fact yet.

Using the leverage of the pick, I shoved the creature to the ground, and held my weight on it until the beast stopped wiggling. Blood pooled quickly onto the dirt and grass beneath it, before the ground soaked up the fluid almost greedily. I grimaced, chiding myself for my carelessness, before planting a foot on the creature's side and yanking the pick from it, sending another spray of blood.

"Prick." I muttered to the dead beast. I recognized it, though couldn't put a name to the dinosaur. It killed the fat guy in the movie, and I'm glad that my subconscious was still apparently working great. I had no idea what that spray would do to me, but the angle was going right to my eyes, and I couldn't imagine that would have ended well. I shook my head at my idiocy, then headed to the river to rinse off the pick.

Once clean, I started back, and the return was just as uneventful as the previous trip. Still, after the little spitting asshole, I kept my eyes wide open, and tried to be mindful of everything. The Triceratops family had apparently moved on, though the Parasaur was still wandering calmly. As I passed one of the birds, I debated killing one for dinner, but decided against it. Without a proper way to store the food, I'd rather only cook what I needed, and I still had the two small dinosaurs ready to eat from the mountain. I passed them without qualm.

Back at the base of my tower, I sighed, and started the short climb up. I was tired, my legs and feet were sore, my belly was rumbling, and my hands were still shaking from the encounter at the cabin. Back at my shelter, I quickly stuffed my new bag in, before crawling in myself, layering branches back over the entrance. I poked at the remnants of my fire from the morning, and was pleasantly surprised to find there were still some orange embers left in the fire pit. I brought the fire back to life with some dry moss I'd collected and some gentle breaths, and soon had both dinos spit and cooking over the fire.

It was fairly cramped in the shelter with the extra bag taking up the limited space, but I still managed to sit hunched over. While not exactly comfortable, it was somewhat safe, and that led to its own kind of comfort. With my dinner cooking, I pulled the book from the bag, and started flipping through, passing the time. As I'd figured, it was a journal, and the first several pages showed a similar circumstance to my own. Waking up on the beach, fighting to survive. Interestingly, the pages started becoming inter-spaced with detailed sketches of dinosaurs, with information provided. I frowned as I found myself looking at a very good drawing of my little spitting friend from earlier.

"Dilophosaur." I said to myself, glad to have a name for it.

I flipped past more pages, seeing even more dinos, some I recognized, some I didn't, until I found a drawn picture of the bird from earlier that had nearly killed me.

"Argentavis. Giant vulture."

Another few pages showed me my dinner, currently smoking from a stick. "Compy." I muttered.

Out of curiosity, I flipped to the last page. The writing there was different, and I compared it with the first few pages. Definitely different. Someone else had likely found this book then, and continued on with it. I read the last page, which seemed to have been hastily scrawled, almost panicky.

 _It's found me.  
I thought I'd lost it on the mountain, but its tracking skills are incredible.  
I can hear it now, stomping close. It knows I'm here, and I can't run.  
If those bastard Wolves hadn't abandoned me, maybe this wouldn't have happened.  
It's here. I can smell it.  
Beware the mountain, beware the beast  
Beware th_

The writing abruptly cut off, with a scratch of charcoal streaking across the page. I frowned, and reread the passage. Whoever this was had run afoul of something. A Rex maybe? Or something bigger? What were the Wolves he spoke of? Which mountain?

I shook my head, closing the book and setting it off to the side. My Compy meal seemed to be done, and I shifted one to the side, leaving it close enough to the fire to keep it warm, and taking the other into my hand. The meat was bland, tasteless, but hot, and I quickly ate it before moving to the second. As much as I wanted to know more about what this random survivor had come up against, I had more pressing issues to think about.

My most immediate needs were satisfied. Food water and shelter were provided. But my lean-to wasn't going to last long, and I needed something more long term. Ideally, I needed a cabin like the survivor had, along with defensive measures along the path to get up the tower. It wouldn't be fast or easy, but it'd be more secure than I had, and I could have something somewhat more comfortable than I had now. That was priority.

I imagined how to go about the creation of a cabin of my own. Clearly wood wouldn't do the job against the bigger predators, but I could potentially upgrade whatever I built with more stable defense, possibly even some kind of stone structure around it. There may even be some insight into building a proper structure in the book. I needed to start immediately, but I was exhausted from the trip, and the several near death experiences. The sun hadn't yet set, but I wasn't going to do much more that day.

Grabbing the journal, I left my shelter, and spent some time inspecting the tower top. Satisfied that there was nothing ready and waiting to jump out and eat my face, I settled myself down at the base of the tree, and pulled the pickaxe close, leaving its handle just in hands reach. Adjusting myself so my knife was in easy grasping reach, I leaned back against the trunk, opened the book, and started to read.


	6. Of taming and bows

Finally got around to finishing another chapter. It's been a busy week, and I haven't gotten to work on it as much as I wanted, but I finally managed to finish it up last night. Hope ya'll like it.

* * *

The night was awake, and so was I.

Despite the exhaustion from the day's experiences, I couldn't shut down. My mind was far too filled to properly fall asleep, and instead I simply lay there, trying to sort my thoughts. I'd read until the twilight sky was too dark to see anymore, before finally retiring to my shelter. I was only about half way through the book, and I have to say, whatever God or gods were deciding my luck in this experience apparently really wanted me to make it through.

The journal was far more than just some random person's experiences. Along with the interspaced dossiers for different dinosaurs on the island, the book also contained an insane amount of survival information to live on this island. My hope had been that the book would contain some ideas behind how to build my next shelter, preferably a cabin. It had everything I could hope for, and more. Not only did it give detailed information on design, structure, and sealing with a material the writer called Cementing Paste, it also showed how to make structures out of multiple materials, from tree thatch, wood, or stone.

Already I had several ideas behind how I was going to create a home on my tower. Originally I'd planned on a wood shelter, until I could figure out a way to solve the weight dilemma. Wood logs are heavy, far heavier than a single man could drag 40 feet up a trail, much less position into a traditional log cabin style. I would have to inherently build up from an insane amount of smaller branches to get the same effect, and it wouldn't be nearly secure. But, the journal solved the weight issue for me, and not in any way I'd have ever thought. A way that changed everything. A method that had me lying on the ground, unable to sleep due to the implications.

According to the journal, the dinosaurs, damn near every species on this island, could be tamed.

The book was fairly detailed in that regard. I'd sat there, mouth agape, body shocked, as I read about the process. The author seemed to be some kind of scientist, and I didn't understand some of the jargon she used, but as I understood it, there was a species of berries on the island that could induce a natural anesthesia if consumed. The author called them Narcoberries, and I was surprised to see that I already had two pots full of them, from the cabin I'd found. The author believed that the berries were the key behind the taming process, claiming they not only kept the dinos asleep, but did some kind of chemical hypnosis, changing the inherent nature of their instincts into a domesticated control. She claimed that there were even reports of groups of survivors taming dinosaurs as large as brontos, and as aggressive as a Rex. It was insane!

She also showed a process for reducing the berries down to a paste, to be used with a spear, arrow, or any other type of injectable tool. Tranquilizing a wild dinosaur seemed to be the first step, and after that, feeding it the berries, along with sustenance to keep the creature alive, was all it took. There was even an easy indication to know if the beast was tamed or not, as once a proper level of the narcotic berries was reached, it had a side effect of the beasts eyes changing color, to a unique and apparently quite lovely green color.

Once tamed, the dinosaurs were apparently amazingly loyal, and quick to learn. There were drawings of people using Stegosaurs, Triceratops, and even what looked like some kind of giant gorilla, as beasts of burden, helping carry loads or defend homes. One drawing in particular drew my attention. A single man drawn as a pin point, on the back of some massive beast, with a literal fortress set on the creatures back. The drawing was different from this Helen person's drawings, so I didn't know if it was accurate or not.

Still, the biggest implications in my discovery of the journal was the realization that I wasn't alone here. I had no way of knowing how long it had been since the attack on the cabin, but it couldn't have been TOO long, or the cabin would have shown more signs of neglect or overgrowth. It hadn't. My gut told me that it had been recent, within a few weeks, so it would stand to reason that there was still a solid human population here.

I'd given more thought to his last passage. He referred to Wolves as if it were a group, maybe some kind of tribe on the island, of people like us who were stranded. If I could make contact with another group, and even potentially join them, I'd stand a much greater chance of success. The problem was, I had no idea where their tribe would be, much less getting there. A day's journey, and I'd almost died. Twice. I needed to be better prepared for what was out there.

I rolled to my side, and patted the journal reassuringly. I had already been confident that I could survive the climate, and had plans in place to defend my tower against the ever present threat of these creatures, but with the information in this journal, I stood a very real chance of finding these Wolves, or other tribes, provided I could have a safe place to call home. That had to be priority.

I nodded to myself. So, I needed to build a home. Something that could defend against the raptors, dilo's, and whatever else might want to kill me. There was a design for a stone lodge style home drawn in the journal, and the materials to build it wouldn't be a huge issue. Hauling the stone and lumber would be a hassle, if I hadn't already read about the ability to tame the dinosaurs.

Something big, with capability for carrying large amounts of material, and could handle the weight. Something strong. Preferably something that wouldn't eat my face off if I pissed it off. An herbivore, either a Triceratops or a Stegosaurus. I thought about that for a minute, then nodded. Triceratops would be my best option, for pure strength and utility. The Steggos were strong enough, but also slow, weighed down by the heavy armored plates they sported on their backs. I'd only seen a group of three of them on my mountain adventure, and that had been on the opposite side of the mountain.

The Triceratops though, were in abundance. I just needed a way to knock them out. The book gave detailed instructions for crafting a bow, and the notes on the narcotic said it could easily be used with arrows, so that was my best bet. Once I'd figured out a game plan, it was easier to relax, and I closed my eyes, mind drifting. In the morning, I'd start working on the bow, and with any luck, I'd be well on my way of having a pet dinosaur within a few days.

* * *

The days fell into a simple routine. It quickly became second nature for me to watch out for the predators of the jungle, and despite the focus required for my work, I felt safe in my location. The process had taken most of a week to complete, but it had been well worth it. The first day had been spent finding the right kind of wood, but luckily, the journal had detailed pictures of the types of wood and branches to find for the procedure. I'd stripped down a particularly thick piece of unknown wood, and spent several hours shaping it into the way it needed to be, using a variety of sharp stones.

Once I'd had the wood into a stave for the shape I needed, I spent another half day making the string for it. Braiding fibrous bark into a workable rope was time consuming, if not particularly difficult, and had left my fingers numb from the process. Once done and strung, I had a workable bow with plenty of tension, and the pride I'd felt in finishing it had brought a grin to my face.

The arrows were simple to create, though again, time consuming. I'd found several tree saplings at the edge of my tower, and gathered a dozen of the straightest ones I could find. After stripping the bark and carving notches with another handy rock, I sharpened each, and hardened the tips over my small fire. With a lack of other options for feathers, I finally decided on risking the mountain again, and returned to the dead Argentavis from my previous venture. It had been several days, and scavengers had mostly torn the beast to bits, but there were still plenty of large feathers for me to scavenge myself. I hadn't been attacked by anything on the short journey, and had returned to my tower with the nylon bag full of the undamaged, if slightly blood covered, feathers.

I used my knife to strip the feathers down to the correct size, and tree sap to secure them to the shafts, along with a thin length of more fiber string. After some experimentation and failed designs, I finally managed to fashion together a quiver with a length of solid but flexible bark, folded over in a U shape and secured with more rope, along with a sling to hold it in place over my shoulder. With my bow and quiver complete, all that was left was to train with it, and I discovered a new level of frustration.

Turns out, shooting a gun is drastically different than shooting a bow. Yes, I realize that is probably pretty obvious, but hear me out here. I figured that having at least a decent grounding in firing weapons might give me a bit of edge with shooting arrows from a handmade bow. Turns out that I'm an idiot, and probably shouldn't have made that assumption. You know what they say about making assumptions.

Anyways, I sucked. Really sucked. But with a lack of any other reasonable options, and a whole lot of free time, I was able to practice. It took me four solid days of shooting arrows into a rotten log before I was a reasonably decent shot. I added a decent number of blisters to my collection in the process, had to remake half a dozen arrows, and my arms and back were screaming at me after the first day, but there was nothing to do but to keep practicing, and I slowly got better.

When the sun was down and I was retired in my shelter, I spent my time by firelight making the narcotic paste. It was an even slower process than making arrows, but it did have a certain routine to it. I didn't have a proper mortar or pestle to grind down the berries, but I did have a rock that I hit enough with another rock until I had the general shape of a bowl. I caveman, ugh. Using another critical tool I've come to rely on (another rock), I ground the berries down to their juices. According to the journal, and from my own experiences so far, the juices dried out far too fast to be an effective poison by themselves. However, luckily, the journal had a solution to that problem. The juice bonded most effectively to a protein rich source. Meat ground to a paste was the most effective, but fish could also be used.

Once I had a good handful of the berries ground to a juicy paste, I added chunks of fish caught in the river to the makeshift bowl, and ground it all together until I had a relatively gummy paste, and viola! Narcotic paste. It was tedious work, wasn't fast, and it had taken me almost the entire week to produce a single clay jar full of the paste, but I'd finally been satisfied that I had enough. The bow sat beside me, flickering reflections of the firelight glistening off the wood. My quiver of arrows sat beside it, along with the pot of narcotic. I was ready, after a week's worth of effort, to finally try to knock out a beast that weighed about twenty of me. I'd out set tomorrow morning after breakfast, and either tame the thing, or die in the process. Kinda made me feel stupid for the idea, but there was little other choice. To survive, I needed a better shelter. To make the shelter, I needed strength.

I really hoped this wasn't going to backfire in my face.

* * *

When I'd run for my life up the beach, I'd been so focused on outrunning the raptors that I'd hardly paid attention to my surroundings. Now, with proper weapons at my disposal, a strung bow in my hand, and my trusty knife at my side, I was able to feel comfortable enough to survey my surroundings. The area was actually quite beautiful, and the creatures that I passed held an equal kind of beauty. More of the gigantic turtles moseyed along heavily, ignoring me entirely. Dodos waddled along everywhere, their ugly faces occasionally pecking at the ground. The flying creatures I had initially thought were Pterodactyls were actually called Pteranodons. I wasn't sure what the difference was, but I figured it couldn't hurt to call things by their proper name. A pair of bronto's stomped along in the distance, their massive bodies pushing trees out of the way as they feasted on leaves, and up the mountain I could see more of the giant Argentavis birds floating along lazily, most likely looking for an easy meal. Sure as hell wasn't going to be me.

I reached the fork of the river, and rather than continue on the path I'd initially taken, I went west, into unfamiliar territory, my eyes peeled, tension held on my bowstring. I walked for what seemed to be about twenty minutes, passing more historical creatures, before I finally found what I was looking for. Passing a large boulder on the edge of the river, I ran almost headfirst into a Triceratops drinking from the stream, the massive bulk of its body blocking further view down the river. It snorted at me as it lifted its head from the water, watching me with eyes the size of dinner plates. I froze, keeping my eyes locked on it, trying not to make any sudden movements, the bow shaking lightly in my hands.

It watched me, but made no move to charge. Instead, it snorted again lightly, and turned to stomp off back into the dense jungle behind it. I let out a breath, and quickly scanned my surroundings for a high ground. Once I pissed off the beast, it was likely going to charge, and while I could be quick on my feet, I didn't want to risk getting skewered on one of the massive spikes on the things face. My eyes fell on the boulder I'd passed, and I grinned. I hurried to sling my bow over my shoulder, and scaled the boulder. The top was rugged and uneven, but wide enough for me to easily stand. I quickly dropped my bag, keeping my eyes on the beast lumbering away, and pulled the narcotic out, placing it on the stone beneath me, and removed the dozen arrows from their quiver.

I'd debated dipping the arrows into the paste before leaving, but didn't want to risk it getting dried out, so I quickly dipped each tip into the narcotic, smearing it liberally on, before replacing them in the quiver. I left three out, and gripped two in my left hand, along with the grip of the bow, and strung the third. The beast was almost to the tree line, and I wasn't going to follow it into the jungle. There were easier and less painful ways for me to commit suicide then going into the tree line.

I drew the arrow back to my cheek, the tension from the bow and string causing the muscles of my back and arm to strain. I lined up the beasts rear end, aiming for the space where its back leg met its body. I let out a breath, the same as I would if firing a rifle, and the bow was steady in my hand. The air was still, the slight breeze quiet. Stillness ruled, as my vision tunneled down until all that existed was my body, the bow, and the target. In the space between heartbeats, I gently released the string, and watched in almost slow motion as the arrow cleared the bow, and soared through the air, a soft whistling sound coming from the displaced air as it passed right by my target, and thunked into a tree a few feet away from the beast.

Look, I told you, I'm not exactly Hawkeye.

I cursed to myself, and quickly knocked another arrow, draw, aimed, and fired again. The beast was almost fully into the tree line, but my second shot was mostly true. I'd been aiming for its giant ass, but the shaft ended up sinking into the raised meat of its shoulder. I cursed again as I knocked my third arrow. The beast snorted in sudden surprise and anger as it turned, searching for what it likely thought had bitten it. I drew, took careful aim, and fired again. I was lucky it hadn't turned all the way yet, and my third shot managed to sink into its side. From how deep it went, I had likely gotten lucky and managed to nail it between its downward turned ribs.

Its head snapped to me, probably drawn by the motion of me pulling another arrow from my quiver, and it bellowed in rage. It pawed at the ground, head lowering, and started rumbling towards me. I was high enough up on the boulder that I wasn't too worried about the creature ramming me, but I still crouched to stabilize myself, and lined up another shot. The armored plate of its head made it unlikely for me to score a headshot on the beast, but at my angle, I was able to land another hit in the top of its flank, eliciting another bellow of pain.

As I nocked another arrow and took aim, it made a new sound, more like a squeal than a bellow, and angled away, closer to the water, and tried to run past me. I'd guess the pain from the arrows had scared it enough that it didn't want anything to do with me, regardless of our size differences. It didn't stop me from landing another arrow solidly in its side, but I cursed again as it still didn't drop, and quickly stuffed the narcotic back into my bag, and slung it back over my shoulders, before dropping back down from the rock and running after the beast.

It was quick, but by the very nature of its size, it wasn't going to be swift enough to escape me. I let off another arrow as I ran, but shot way wide, not even coming close. Another curse left my lips, and I focused on running after it. Tracking was easy, as the creature was bleeding plenty enough from the wounds that it left a nice trail for me to follow. I realized that it'd likely mean predators from the jungle could easily follow it as well, but dammit, I was strapped for options. The journal didn't say how long the narcotic took to take effect, which seemed like a bit of a narrative oversight to me, but couldn't be helped for now. I kept running.

By luck, or a higher power, but probably because it was the most open path, the Triceratops had booked it towards the river I'd run up, and I followed closely at a jog, focusing on keeping my breath stable, and waiting for the opportunity to take another shot. Luckily, I didn't need to. The beast's steps slowed to a trot, then slowly to a walk, and I quickly caught up to it, keeping a relatively safe distance. I already had another arrow nocked, and had started to draw when it let out a low, deep bellow, before it toppled slowly to its side, and collapsed to the sandy ground. I blinked at the creature, my arm holding the bow dropping to my side.

"Well I'll be damned." I muttered to myself, and slowly inched forward and around the beast. Its eyes were closed, and it's breathing steady. Blood trickled slowly but steadily from the several puncture wounds of the arrows. I needed to do something about that, but the wounds weren't life threatening. I quickly crouched at the Trikes head, and pulled my bag from my shoulder, removing the jar of narcoberries I hadn't used for the narcotic paste. I pulled a handful from the jar, and stuffed them into the beast's mouth. Unconscious apparently didn't stop instinct for the beast, as its jaw suddenly moved in a chewing motion, scaring the hell out of me and causing me to jump back, but it otherwise didn't react.

"Interesting." I mumbled, returning to my spot. It had not only reacted to me feeding it, the beast had actually eaten the berries. That indicated that it wasn't completely unconscious. Maybe some kind of induced coma or something. I shook my head in wonder, and pulled a bundled cloth from my bag. The journal had indicated that most of the large herbivores on the island preferred a purple berry the author had called mejoberries, and I'd spent some time during the last week collecting a good bit of them. They were safe for humans to eat, but fairly bitter, and not super appealing. Still, I spent a few minutes feeding the beast, before turning my attention to its wounds.

The worst was the arrow I'd landed between its ribs. I gingerly pulled the arrow from its side, producing a spurt of blood, and quickly put pressure on the wound, holding my weight on it for a few minutes. The wound wasn't life threatening by any means, but it still had the potential to weaken the beast, or possibly get infected, and I didn't want to ruin the effort I'd put forth. I eyed the other wounds as I kept pressure, prioritizing them. After about five minutes of pressure, I let up, and inspected the wound closer. It still oozed slowly, but it seemed to have stopped the drastic flow. Good enough for me.

I repeated the process with the other wounds, taking time between wounds to feed the beast more berries. The arrows weren't thick, and the beast was so massive that it likely wasn't necessary, but better safe than sorry. My mind was already thinking ahead to what my next steps were. I had no idea how long it would take for the Trike to wake, and there were still predators around that concerned me. Likely scavengers too, that might come after a gigantic unconscious meal. It'd be best if I hurried, but with no control over the taming process, there wasn't much I could do.

As I finished with the final wound and replaced the arrows in my quiver, I scanned my surroundings, keeping a wary eye out for any threats. We'd run most of the way back up the river, and I was close to the fork I'd taken, my tower just on the other side of the bend of the river. It was pretty fortunate placement, all things considered. I returned to the beasts head and crouched again, adding another handful of berries. The journal was fairly vague about how much to give them, but I figured as long as it kept eating, I was doing alright. I made sure to add a few narcoberries to each handful, like the journal recommended.

An uneasy feeling washed over me suddenly, and I frowned, standing. I could see a bipedal creature in the distance by the bend, moving swiftly along the beach, its elongated neck and small head bobbing as it moved. I watched it carefully, but it made no move to come closer. The feeling remained, however, and I scanned around myself, wary. The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly rose as my instincts started screaming at me, and I froze in place, eyes and ears alert.

The sound I heard was slight, just barely audible next to the deep breathing of my unconscious friend. A chuffing maybe, or a ragged breath. It seemed to be behind me. Ever so slowly, I turned my head, bringing my bow to the front of my body in the motion, and glanced behind me. I had enough time, barely, to gasp out a curse, before a living mass of muscle, fur, and fangs slammed into my back, driving me to the coarse sand beside my Trike, teeth snapping at my neck.

Fuck.


	7. Surprises

Finally got a chance to fix the formatting. Not sure what went wrong there, but I do a lot of the typing on my phone, then send it over to word, so maybe something happened there. I'll be better about checking the formatting before submitting chapters. Hope ya'll enjoy.

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Ch. 7

Yeah. This wasn't going well.

I had no idea what was on my back. I knew it was heavy, and furry, and strong. If I hadn't put my backpack on again after treating the Trikes wounds, I probably would have died at the first contact. As it was, I heard a terrible tearing sound, I was flung forward, and my face hit the sand. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

Instinct took over, and I flung an elbow into the things side. It yelped, and I rolled, trying to fling it from me, stripping my bag from my shoulders in the motion. I don't know if it was the blow from my elbow, or the sudden roll, but I managed to escape the creatures grasp, and kept rolling, until I could flip myself up somewhat gracelessly, and finally get my feet under me again.

I gasped catching my breath as I finally got a look at my attacker. It was a feline, massive in the shoulders and front legs, with powerful, corded muscles showing prominently under its short fur. A stocky neck gave way to a blocky head, and twin tusked teeth protruded from its upper jaw as it snarled at me. I blinked in recognition, but didn't hesitate to pull my obsidian knife.

The damned Sabertooth had caught me completely off guard, and if I hadn't had my bag on, I'd be dead. As it was, the pieces of my shredded backpack lay at the beasts feet, which were tensing in the sand, preparing to jump. I let out a sound of my own, putting my surprise, fear, and anger into the sound, producing a snarl I didn't think was possible to make. The creature lunged, and I jumped back, trying to keep my distance. It only partially worked, and the cat swiped at me with a massive paw. I was able to dance back away from it, barely, but it cost me a return sTrike.

The cat charged again, and I focused entirely on avoid it's blows. The damn thing was fast, but I was able to at least dodge it's blows, though that was a losing strategy. As I moved, I tried to maneuver the cat closer to the Trike, hoping it would take the bait and switch to an easier prey. As much as a pain it would be to lose the Trike I'd already knocked out, it'd be more of a pain to, you know, die. But it just kept coming, lunging and swiping at me, and I struggled to keep out of its reach.

No matter how good I was at dodging it's blows though, it's hard to argue against a cats sheer hunting ability. It lunged suddenly to my left, causing me to instinctually dodge right. The lunge was a feint. By the time I realized it, the cat had already hit me again, and I dropped with a sudden shock of agony. It's claws had caught my thigh with the maneuver, and it followed in quickly, fangs barred in victory.

I lashed out with my knife as the cat closed the distance, tearing a furrow across its face. It howled in pain and fury, wincing back, and I lunged towards it with all the strength I could muster. I caught my shoulder up under the things neck, and forcing it upward, forcing it to stand on its hind legs. It snarled again, paws grasping for purchase in the coarse sand. I only had seconds, and tried to stab at the beast, but the angle I was at prevented me from getting a good thrust.

I felt it tense, and knew it was close to striking again, and I was already losing strength. Desperate, I shifted, gripping a handful of the creatures mane with my free hand, and twisted with everything I had. Somehow, despite my injury, I was able to swing the big cat. Not much, but enough for it to lose its footing in the sand, and I slammed it to the ground on its back, producing another yelp of pain from it.

Howling in victory, I lunged forward, knife first, and buried the blade in its chest, putting all my weight into the blow. It screamed, mouth wide, and twisted, paws flailing with its claws fully extended, forcing me to dodge backwards. The motion yanked the knife from my hand, and as I tried to keep my balance, my wounded leg failed me, dropping me to the sand again, wincing in pain. I managed to turn my head, and watched the Sabertooth pull itself shakily to its feet. I groaned, and struggled to regain my feet, but to no avail.

The beast met my eyes, lips peeled in another snarl, and started to stalk towards me, the handle of my knife still protruding from its chest. I groaned, trying again to gain my feet. It growled low in its chest, and lunged. I could do little else but watch it close on me.

I wasn't a coward, and I knew death was likely on this God forsaken island. But that didn't mean I wanted to watch it.

I closed my eyes as it reached me.

There was a sound, a sudden weight on my back, and then, nothing. I waiting for the pain, the tearing of flesh and the rain of blood, but nothing follow but stillness. I finally forced myself to open my eyes, and tried to gaze around, but the weight was settled partially on my neck. It took me a moment, but I managed to wiggle my way out from under the big cat, and managed to somehow get myself up onto my hands and knees.

The Sabertooth was dead, blood pooling under it in the sand. A single hole, maybe the size of a quarter, started on one side of its head. Bits of fur, brains, and blood were splattered out behind it. I'd never been much of a hunter, that was more my dad's territory, but I'd helped him dress elk and antelope before. I could easily recognize a gunshot wound. Between the pain, shock, and anxiety of the last several minutes, it took me a moment to realize the importance of what this meant. I looked around wildly, trying to find the shooter.

A screeching roar caused my gaze to snap up, and my jaw dropped as gooseflesh erupted along my entire body. The flying creature was enormous, membranous wings easily spread thirty feet on either side of it, pumping lazily as it floated above me. It's elongated, feather covered neck ended with a delicate head with beady black eyes, punctuated with a viciously sharp looking beak. Despite my awe at seeing such a huge flying creature, it was all secondary to me.

Seated casually in a saddle that looked to be made of leather and some other materials I couldn't identify, was a man, casually gripping a rifle in his hands. His clothes were all close fitted leather, punctuated with plates of some kind of hard, glossy looking material at critical sTrike points. His face was mostly covered with a hood, a length of fabric covering his nose and mouth, leaving only the eyes exposed. I managed to gain my feet, putting most of my weight on my unwounded leg, and met the man's eyes. My head spun dizzily, and stars swam in my vision, but still I watched him.

Without seeing his face, I had no idea what he was thinking, but I got the feeling it was approval. He nodded at me, a somehow respectful motion, and pulled at something on the saddle. The birds wings pumped, gaining altitude, and they flew off steadily to the west, rising higher and higher. I watched them go, still shocked at the encounter. It was hard to get a full breath, but I still tried to call to the man. I was barely able to get out a croaking cry, and that nearly put me back to the ground. I was just too weak from the attack to muster more energy.

Sighing, I watched the duo disappear over the tree line. I shook my head, spent a minute pulling my knife from the beasts chest, and limped my way back to the Trike, who was still happily unconscious. I stuffed another handful of berries in its mouth, before finally sitting against its massive side to inspect my wound. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, all things considered. Twin gashes oozed blood, soaking through the thin fabric of my pants. The claws hadn't caught an artery, or I'd have already bled out, but it was still extremely painful, and I needed to stop the bleeding. With a lack of other options, I groaned my way to my feet again, and limped over to the shredded remains of my bag.

I ripped fabric from it, and tied off my leg, putting pressure on the wound. It hurt, but the adrenaline was still pumping through my blood, and it didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. With the bandage secure, I was able to put a bit more weight on my leg, and I collected the remains of my bag, along with the few other items I'd brought on the taming venture, before wobbling back to the Trikes side, grabbing my discarded bow on the way.

I dropped gracelessly to the ground next to the Trikes head, and stretched my leg out. The beasts breathing seemed to be getting heavier, deeper. It was a task to focus my mind, but I seemed to remember from the journal that heavier breathing was an indication that the taming was nearly complete. I hoped so. If something else decided to attack, I was probably going to die.

Naturally, as I had that thought, I heard motion. I was too exhausted to jump, but my head snapped to the sound, and I grabbed up my bow quickly, snagging an arrow from the quiver next to me and nocking it, eyes searching. I heard it again. A whimper maybe, almost like that of a puppy. I frowned, and eased myself to my feet, keeping tension in the bow. My body felt like I'd been in a car accident, but I wasn't about to sit idly by and wait for something else to attack. The noise was coming from the dead Sabertooth, and I inched myself towards it, mindful of any motion.

A plaintive cry came up from behind the beast, and as I finally reached the carcass, I was able to see what was making the sound. It looked like a kitten, if a kitten could be the size of a beagle. It gazed up at me with mournful eyes. There was no fear there, no terror, just sadness. Misery. I felt a pang of sadness myself as the bow dropped to my side. I hadn't considered that killing something in defense would result in an orphan. It wouldn't have changed how I reacted, but I still felt sadness for the little one. I sighed, and limped back to the Trike, taking time to feed it more berries, and settled back down to the ground.

I watched the Sabertooth's carcass, and was surprised when the kitten crawled out from the beasts side, and walked unsteady towards me. It didn't seem to be very old, though it was hard to gauge with a kitten the size of a dog, but it's steps were awkward, gangly. It stopped a few feet from me, eyes curious, nose twitching. I couldn't help but admire the little beast. I knew if it grew up, it'd take the same shot at me that it's mother had, but I also knew that with its mother dead, the chances of it living were slim to none.

I held a hand out, palm down, fingers loose. The kitten didn't hesitate, and stalked over, sniffing my fingers, before inching forward, letting my limp fingers run through its soft fur. I couldn't help but smile, despite everything. It acted just like any other cat, and it purred lightly. I don't know how it wasn't reacting more to its mother's death, especially to its killer. Maybe it hadn't seen what happened, and so just went to the first friendly animal it had found. Maybe there wasn't strong family ties with these big cats. Hell, it was a cat after all, maybe it just didn't care.

There was a sudden rumbling behind me, and I jumped forward with a start, wincing as I put weight on my wounded leg. The kitten froze for a microsecond, then booked it to the tree line, disappearing in the brush. I spun, ready for another attack, but froze when the unconscious Trike shook its heavy head, and worked itself to its feet, letting out a deep bellow. I watched it turn its head, and met its eyes. The journal wasn't kidding about the eyes. Deep, deep emerald eyes met my gaze steadily, and the whole beast stood patiently, like it was waiting for something.

Hesitantly, I held out my hand towards the creature. It made a deep purring sound in its throat, barely audible, and inched it's head forward. My hand met it's pebbly flesh, and I stared in awe at the beast. Rubbing back and forth in it elicited another purr, and I suddenly grinned. Wounded, dirty, exhausted, but it had all been worth it. Somehow, I'd managed to tame my first dinosaur.

Man, things you never thought you'd say.

I pet the beasts nose for a minute, just savoring the feeling of victory. It had been a long road, I'd be glad to get back to the safety of my tower. I took the time to collect everything I'd dropped from my bag, and spent even longer trying to bundle it all together. The pack was in pretty poor shape, but with some assistance from a length of paracord, I was able to get it mostly secured. Only one of the cloth straps was still in decent enough shape to sling over my shoulders, so I slung it diagonally across my back, along with my quiver. I'm sure it looked goofy, but needs want and all that.

The Trike watched me through the whole process, green eyes tracking me. Once I had my pack secured, out of curiosity, I clucked my tongue at the beast. It cocked its head, watching me. I clucked again, and motioned towards myself. The creature rumbled lightly, and took a few steps forward to me, until I stood in front of me. I grinned again. Communication. Awesome.

"Good..." I started to say, but stopped, frowning. I was going to say good girl, but I wasn't sure how accurate that was. Slightly embarrassed, I walked around the Trike to its rear end, to figure out if I had a boy or girl Trike. I shook my head as I walked back to its front.

"Good girl." I said, flushing lightly. I'm sure it's not a big deal in the animal kingdom, but inspecting anything's genitals wasn't exactly a fun proposition. It rumbled again, somehow looking pleased. I sighed, before returning to the dead Sabertooth. As much of a pain as it was going to be, the cat's pelt was still in good condition, and the meat would give me a decent dinner. I needed the things carcass. Unfortunately, the kitten was likely still nearby, and I felt a feeling of shame. I debating leaving it, but reason prevented me from abandoning it. The cat was dead, and the kitten would likely follow suit. It sucked, but nature was very rarely kind.

I shook my head again, and clucked at the Trike. She walked to my side immediately, and I took a few minutes coaxing her to lay down, motioning and making a different pitched clucking sound. She finally caught on, and once she was settled on the ground, I went through the backbreaking effort of hauling several hundred pounds of cat up onto the creatures back. It wasn't easy, especially with my wounded leg, but the slope of the Trikes side helped, and I was able to get the carcass in place. I used the rest of my paracord to secure it to the Trikes spine spikes. It wasn't perfect, but it should hold until I made it home.

I started to scope the area for the best way back to my tower, when I had a thought. Inspecting my new tame, it's back was mostly covered down the spine with sharp protrusions, and the crest of its head mostly covered any chance of me seeing past it, but if I stood...

I patted her side, before gripping one of the outcropped spikes of its crest, and pulling myself up, being mindful of her reaction. She didn't seem to mind in the least, and actually helped with the last bit by tilting her head to the side, pulling me the extra bit up. I grinned again at that. Looking closer, I had been right that I wouldn't be able to see past her crest without a raised saddle of some kind, but two spikes at the top of her crest rose straight up, giving me a perfect handhold if I were to stand. Good enough for me.

"Um..." I muttered. "Up?"

I grabbed the spikes in surprise as the beast stood suddenly, it's body shifting as she got her legs under her. I couldn't believe that had actually worked. The creature was far smarter than I expected. I'd grown up with dogs, and trained several of them. I'd never seen a single one that could pick up commands as quickly as this massive creature I was currently standing on. It was incredible, to put it simply. Jesus, if I could tame some of the carnivores on this island and train them properly, I'd have a remarkably strong defensive force, assuming the carnivores reacted the same to taming as the herbivores. It was something worth looking into once I could get back to my shelter and the journal.

My gaze went to the brush where the kitten had disappeared, but there was no sign of it. I debated for a minute if I should go and try to find the little thing, seeing as I was the reason it was an orphan now, but I'd come to find that the forest was the most dangerous area on this island, and I was already wounded. If another Sabertooth attacked, or a raptor, or any other random meat eating beast, there was very little chance I'd be able to survive. Hell, just standing was sending fire through my leg, and there was no chance of me outrunning pretty much anything.

"Sorry little guy." I whispered. Shaking my head, I addressed my Trike.

"Alright girl, let's get going."

It took a minute, but I finally got the Trike moving. I was able to use my hand hold on the twin spikes to guide her left or right, which was about the extent of my control. Still, the beast reacted easily, and we lumbered along. It wasn't fast, but there was a certain joy in riding the dinosaur. I mean, hell, how many people can say they rode a triceratops? It was pretty cool, and I felt myself grinning. Fast or not, might as well enjoy the journey.

We reached the fork of the river, and I guided her south, following the water flow to my tower. As we marched on, I noticed another Dilophosaur on our path. We were closing in on it fast, and I frowned. I couldn't hold on to the Trike and shoot my bow, and with my leg in the condition it was in, there was no way I could easily keep my balance. Concerned, I started the guide the Trike to cross the river, but it was already too late. The Dilo looked up at the Trike, and my beast made a snorting growl at the much smaller creature. The little spitting fiend wanted nothing to do with us. Turning tail, it took off, running towards the tree line. My Trike snorted, and shook its head lightly, jarring my hands. I got the sense that she was pleased with her. I grinned again.

Finally at the tower, I guided her up the path. There was plenty of space for her to make it up, but once we got to the bend of the trail, I clucked my tongue and pulled back on her spikes, stopping her. Sliding off, I went to her front, and helped guide her left, and limped my way up to the top. Once there, I talked quietly to the beast as I untied the dead Sabertooth, telling her this was our home now, introducing myself, and telling her I needed her help with a home. As I finished with the last knot, I pulled the carcass down, letting it plop to the ground without ceremony, before returning to my new friends head.

I rubbed her beak like nose lightly, eliciting another purring sound from her throat. "You need a name girl." I said quietly, watching her eyes. She purred again in response. I thought for a moment about it.

"Well, you're a triceratops. How about Sara?" I asked her. Sara snorted, and bounced up on her hind legs slightly. I grinned at her. "Okay, Sara it is."

I guided Sara towards the brush growing heavily at the top of the tower, and she happily munched away as I set about my nightly routine. The sun was sitting heavily on the horizon, and I only had a little while until darkness set in. As much as I wanted to start dressing the dead Sabertooth, I didn't have enough time, and it would have to wait until morning. I took some time dragging the corpse to the other side of the tower, just in case a scavenger came along looking for an easy meal. I felt a bit more secure having Sara nearby, but it couldn't hurt to be safe.

Pulling back branches from my shelter, I dragged my bag in, and spent a few minutes getting my fire going again, before grabbing the journal and sitting against the tree. I'd seen some rough medical information at one point, though I couldn't remember the specifics, and it took me another several minutes of skimming before I found it. The was instructions for a poultice that would greatly assist in healing, along with stopping the blood flow, using Yarrow and some plant I'd never seen or heard of. The author called it Aum, a fuzzy leafed plant with purple veins that acted as a natural coagulant. Unfortunately, according to the book, it only grew in the forest, at the base of the ponderosa trees I'd seen deeper in the jungle.

The pain and blood loss was starting to make my head feel thick, and I debating going for it regardless of the danger. Inspecting my leg, I could see that my makeshift bandage was already soaked through with blood, and would need to be changed soon. I groaned. There was no way I was making it into the jungle, not with the time I had left before the sun went down. I read through the passage again, hoping to see something that might help my situation.

 _"Once ground and allowed to thicken, the Aum mixture will turn a dull white color. The smell is fairly potent, like dead fish, but the healing properties of the chemical is remarkable. I was able to heal a gash on my hand in days, rather than weeks."_

Something was nagging me about the passage, though I couldn't place it. I racked my brain, thinking furiously, before it suddenly hit me. I struggled back to my feet, and limped my way to my shelter. Leaning inside, I opened the pots I'd found from the cabins, until I found the off-white paste. On my knees, I brought the jar to my nose and inhaled. It smelled pretty god awful, but still I grinned like an idiot. It smelled like dead fish. Only in a situation like my current one would I ever be happy to smell dead fish. I'd had no clue what the substance was, and hadn't put two and two together when I'd first read the journal, but once again, the cabin's inhabitant had likely saved my life.

I removed the bandage, taking a moment to inspect the wound closer. It still oozed steadily, but slower than earlier. I liberally smothered both gashes with the paste, and sighed in relief as the pain almost immediately dissipated. I grabbed the square of cloth I'd received the first night from the beacon, folded it over several times, and used it to tie off the wounds, before testing my weight on it again. My leg was still tender, but it held me without collapsing. I laughed quietly to myself. Once again, somehow, I'd managed to avoid dead on this stupid island.

Take THAT, you dinosaur douche bags.

I inspected the sky, determined I had enough time, and gimped my way down the tower to catch dinner with a spear. After gorging myself on a fish, I bid Sara good night, and crawled into the safety of my shelter. I heard her lumber over close to the tree, before the ground shook slightly as she settled down next to it. I smiled again. A two ton attack dog. That was going to be handy.

Adding wood to the fire to keep it going, I settled down onto my back, thinking about the day, Sara, the cat, and my wounds. Mostly though, I thought of the man who had saved me. With everything happening, I hadn't given his actions much thought, but with time to think now, I considered it. Why save me from the Sabertooth if he was just going to fly off? He didn't interact with me at all, except for the nod, and he'd had a rifle. Too, he was a good shot, nailing a headshot from at least 50 yards, on the back of a moving animal. That took practice, and every gun was different. He would have to have a large supply of ammo to be confident enough to make a shot like that.

I couldn't come up with a solid answer, though I had a few ideas. Why save me, then abandon me? It would have been obvious that I wasn't equipped to survive on this island, that I'd only been here a short time. The man was obviously a veteran at this, and I thought of how long I'd have to survive on this island for someone to think the same thought about me. I shivered. Years, at least. Decades.

As much as I wanted to keep moving and be productive, Sara's rumbling snore next to me, combined with the pain and exertion from the day had my eyelids feeling like they were iron weights, and I finally gave in and closed them, settling back onto the ground. I'd clean up the cat's carcass tomorrow, get a decent pelt and some meat, then start working on a place I could call home.

With Sara, everything had changed. I just hoped that I was past the hardest part of this adventure.


	8. Midnight snack

Short chapter this time. Sorry for the long delay. I'm in the military, and set to leave for deployment in the next few days, so I've been busy. Once I get out there though, I'll have a lot more time to write, and I'll be able to do a lot more. Had some trouble with this chapter anyways, since it's all working on the initial build up. Next chapter will be longer, and things will start to get more interesting.

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Being in the military, I've woken up in some strange ways. Alarms of varying ways are par for the course, but I've woken up to gunfire, mortar strikes, the whistling of an RPG. You never really forget the first time you wake up to a fighter jet flying overhead. Hell, I woke up to a bleating goat once, literally in the same room as me. But, one that I'd never experienced until now was the bellowing roar of a pissed off triceratops.

Not a great way to wake up, to be honest.

I was up instantly. Sara's panicked roar ensured it. I hurried to move branches, grabbing my spear on the way, and exited my shelter. With situational awareness that had been drilled into me for years, I quickly took in my surroundings.

It was the middle of the night, and if not for the mostly full moon in the sky, I'd likely be blind. As it was, the silvery light let me see with decent clarity at the situation unfolding. Sara was next to my shelter, growling deeply in her throat, her stance one of threat and warning. The carcass of the sabertooth was shredded, pieces of blood and gore spread around the body. Two raptors, their leathery skin blood soaked, were tearing into it, their heads making bird like motions as they swallowed pieces.

A sabertooth kitten cowered from a third raptor, larger than the others. Streaks of blood covered it's body, looking almost black in the dim light. It stalked around the kitten, almost like it was playing with the little fuzz ball, but I knew better. I had no idea if it was the same kitten from earlier, or how the kitten had managed to make it all the way to my tower, nor how the raptors had gotten to the top. I cursed myself for leaving such an obvious meal out in the open. I blame blood loss. Regardless, they were here, and I had a serious situation on my hands.

The two raptors were distracted by their meal. The third, likely the alpha of this little pack, hadn't started in on the kitten, but it was only a matter of time. The smart thing to do would be to let the raptor kill the kitten, distracting it, so I could manage to hopefully land a critical blow with my spear. From there, with only two left, Sara and I might stand a decent chance of taking the others.

It was the logical, smart course of action. All I had to do was let the kitten die, and I might stand a chance. I watched the alpha stalk closer to the kitten, and the little beast tripped as it tried to back away from the raptor, falling to the ground with a plaintive cry. I gritted my teeth, my hand tightening in the spear.

Dammit, I'd always had a soft spot for animals.

Before I could stop myself, or try to talk myself out of it, I was moving. The raptors gaze immediately snapped to me, and it tensed, it's mouth opening. I let out a short yell, and closed the distance, spear held in a thrusting grip. The raptor responded with its own belting cry, and charged at me, clawed hands held out.

I had to get it right the first time. There was any number of things I could do, and the adrenaline pumping through my body let me process them all in the short run. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, I didn't want some crazy, half concocted plan. I was committed now, and I'll admit, I was pissed. Pissed at this island, pissed at the constant threats to my life, pissed at the raptors. Most of all, I was pissed that instead of waking up to my daughter crawling into bed with my wife and I, or to her asking for breakfast, I was waking up to fucking dinosaurs attacking my tower.

To hell with subtlety. The island had thrown my life into turmoil. It was high time I threw some turmoil at it.

I charged, putting all my fear, rage, and pain into the motion, and as I closed on the raptor, I dropped low, thrust forward with all my strength, jumping slightly in the act, and slammed the spear tip into the raptors chest so hard, the length of wood shattered. I continued the motion, ignoring the broken wood, and slammed my body into the beast, throwing it backwards. It cried out, a screeching sound that left my ears ringing, but it couldn't recover from the impact, and slammed into the ground, blood spurting from the wound.

I gripped the beasts neck, forcing it back against the ground, and with my spare hand, I quickly drew my knife and began to stab the flailing creatures chest and neck. It's claws scored a hit on my shoulder, but between my rage and adrenaline, I barely felt it. My gaze snapped up as I heard another screech, as the other two finally took notice of their leaders predicament, and started booking it towards me.

"SARA!" I screamed, and my trike roared in response, charging the predators. Say what you will about herbivores, those spikes aren't for show. Several tons of my new friend slammed into the first raptor, and with a flick of her head, the creature went flying, sprawling heavily onto the ground, blood spurting freely from a deep puncture from her nose horn. The second raptor made it past her, and she turned, trying to catch it.

I jumped off the mortally wounded alpha, and danced back from the raptors first strike, causing it to let out another shrieking screech. Sara bounded forward, and it was the raptors turn to dodge back, causing Sara to miss with a blow from her spikes. It charged me again, clawed hands extended, mouth barred in a vicious facsimile of a grin. I felt myself grinning in response. Despite the threat to my life, despite the terror, the rage, the kitten. Despite everything, I grinned.

The creature barreled into me, and I was forced back from the impact, my foot digging into the ground to stabilize myself. My hand snapped up to grip one of its forearms, and I slashed with my knife towards its throat. The beast dipped back, and lunged forward again, teeth snapping at my face. I strained against the creature, pushing back against it. It's free clawed hand swiped at me, forcing me to drop my knife and grab it by the wrist, or be disemboweled. Shining, brilliant white teeth were inches from my face, and my eyes were locked on the beasts. I groaned low in my throat as I struggled to hold the creature back. It was strong, far stronger than me, and I only had seconds before I lost any chance of an advantage.

Luckily, I didn't need seconds. Hearing several tons of creature bellowing in rage at you is pretty terrifying. Hearing it in support of you, however, is a pretty awesome sensation. My eyes snapped to the sound, and I watched as Sara charged forward towards us. I shouted, drawing the raptors attention, and shoved back with everything I had left, releasing the creatures arms and falling back. My head hit the ground, dazing me slightly, as I watched the beast stumble. It wasn't drastic, and wouldn't have dropped the creature, but it did have the effect I needed on it.

With the raptor stunned, Sara had an easy target. One of the huge spikes on her head skewered completely through the predator like a kebab in a vicious impact. It made a slight sound, one of surprise and pain, and struggled weakly, but the spike must have hit the beast's heart, as it quickly went limp on the spike as she slowed. Sara bellowed again, a sound somehow conveying victory over the raptor, and shook her head violently to one side, flinging the dead creature off in a shower of blood and gore. She stomped her feet, shaking her head some more, before turning and walking steadily towards me.

I groaned, but rolled, and slowly pulled myself to my feet, eyes scanning the hilltop. The alpha was dead, a pool of blood collecting beneath it. The first raptor Sara had hit was struggling weakly where it had dropped, despite the gaping wound in its chest. I could just make out the kitten cowering behind a small outcropping of rock, it's eyes almost glowing in the dim moon light. I lifted a hand almost mechanically, and rubbed Sara's nose, causing her to purr at me.

"Good girl." I muttered. She purred deeper in response.

I slowly walked to the wounded raptor, bending to grab my knife on the way, and cut its throat, the obsidian blade tearing through flesh and muscle with ease. I wasn't worried about the creature continuing to be a threat, but regardless of their intent, I still didn't want the creature to suffer any longer. It struggled for another few seconds, before finally going limp. I watched it for another second, before sighing, and slowly making my way to the kitten.

It's eyes tracked me as I walked closer. I stopped a few feet from the rocks, and crouched slowly, holding my hand out palm down.

"Come out little guy." I said quietly. I could barely see the little creatures nose twitch as it smelled the air. It was being cautious, which, to be fair, was probably smart. I spoke quietly, calmly, and finally coaxed the little fuzzball out. It inched towards me, before finally reaching my hand. Its nose twitched more as it sniffed my hand, before it made a soft noise in its throat and began to rub against my hand and arm.

I smiled, and pet the small creature, causing its chest to rumble with a purr. I tried to work through the pros and cons of adopting the little cat. I hadn't tamed it like I had with the Trike, and if it got fully grown, I didn't know if it would become a threat. On the other hand, having a full grown sabertooth that was loyal to me could be a huge asset, especially with the threat of the midsized predators, such as the raptors.

It began licking my fingers with a course tongue, and that decided it for me. I'd keep the little beast, and hope that I could train it well enough to not eventually kill me one day. I shook my head as my smile faded. What a fucked up line of logic I'd gone through to get to that decision. Man, my life right now.

I patted its head, and rose. I needed to dispose of the bodies, before they attracted more attention. We'd managed alright with the raptors, but if a Rex, or something bigger caught scent of the raptors blood, I doubted we'd be as lucky. Between the time of night, my general exhaustion, and lack of energy, I was limited in what I could do, but fortunately, I happened to be on a very tall tower, and there was a stream directly below it. Hopefully it would work for what I wanted it for.

I started with the raptor who's throat I'd cut. I dragged the heavy beast to the edge, and dumped it off without ceremony. It's body smacked against rock and ground heavily, before rolling into the stream. It's body didn't float off, as the stream was far too shallow for that, but I hoped that the blood would disperse in the water, and make it harder for the scent to be isolated.

Repeating the process with the other two, I tried to get all three to land in the same area, which was furthest away from the trail up the tower. The alpha gave me the most trouble, as it was the heaviest, but I finally managed, and watched with satisfaction as it slammed to the ground. Panting, I limped back to my shelter and dragged my bag out, before inching to the tree and plopping gracelessly to the ground.

Wincing, I finally turned my attention to my shoulder. I'd intentionally not looked at it during the conflict, trying to ignore the screaming pain coming from the wound there. The alpha had managed to score a pair of gashes along it, and blood trickled down my arm. I could still move it, which meant it hadn't managed to damage anything too bad, but it still hurt like a bastard. Pulling supplies out, I treated the wound as best I can, rinsing it with water from the skin I'd filled earlier, and smearing it liberally with the aum cream, before wrapping the whole thing. I flexed my arm, finding it still mobile, and nodded to myself, satisfied.

Standing, I made my way wearily back to my shelter. The kitten took notice of me moving, but didn't move from where it had sat atop a rock. I'd deal with the rest in the morning. As it was, I needed to sleep, and hope that nothing else decided to try to make a meal of me. Settling myself into my shelter, I added a bit more fuel to the fire, then laid back, being mindful of my wounded arm. Combined with the throbbing pain of the slash on my leg, it wasn't going to be easy to get to sleep, but I was sure going to give it a try.

The branches of my shelter rustled, and I reacted immediately, hand going to the knife at my side as I sat up. The leaves parted, and the kitten nosed its way in, head swiveling to inspect the inside of my temporary home. I sighed, and laid back, wincing from the pain of the sudden movement. The kitten made its way to me, and eventually nuzzled against my side, turning a few times, and laid down. I smiled at that, and angled my arm around the little fuzzball. It purred in response, and between the sound, warmth, and exhaustion, I felt myself drifting off.

I was curious to see what the morning would bring.


	9. Ropes

So I know this is almost a month overdue, I'm really sorry for the people that actually read this story. Like I said before, I'm military, and have been deployed now for about a month. Things have been pretty hectic as I got situated and figured out my job, but now that I've got the hang of it, I'm able to get some more writing done. So, since I didn't update for a month, here's two chapters. As much as I wanted to get into the deeper action that I have planned, I really wanted to explore a bit more of the survival aspect, as that's really what I see this story as, a survival story with dinosaurs, not a dinosaur story with survival. Hopefully you guys like it, and pretty soon here, things are gonna get a bit more intense for the narrator.

* * *

Despite my circumstances, there's a few things I do enjoy about being on this island. Seeing historic creatures is pretty cool, the routine of survival has a certain peaceful quality to it, and I have my own pet dinosaurs. That's pretty awesome, even if my situation didn't seem to be improving. However, going back to that whole balance thing, there's a lot more cons than pros in my circumstance. Fighting for survival, sleeping on the ground, only eating fish, and let's not even get into how uncomfortable it is to pop a squat against a tree. With all of these things to hate, you'd think it'd be something more drastic that was my most despised thing on this island, but at the moment, all I could do was curse, as I braided more rope.

Stupid fucking rope. I swear

After the late night attack by the raptors, I'd decided that my more present priority was securing the only path up to my tower. So, that next morning, I set about plans to do exactly that. Inspecting the trail leading up to the tower top, I found a spot that would work perfectly for what I had planned. A wide spot just after the left turn on the trail. Looking down, there was about a 10 foot section of rock and dirt to the left, and a decently thick oak on the right, just to the side of the trail. If I could sink a log at the same height as the rock face perpendicular to the tree, I'd have a frame that I could create a gate on. The base of the rocks on the left proved to have plenty space for me to sink in a log, provided I could pull some of the rocks out. To do that, I needed rope to secure as a harness to Sara, and put her to work.

Hence my braiding. Because of the weight of the rocks I'd be pulling, the rope needed to be strong. Strong equaled thick, and thickness meant combining a bunch of smaller braided ropes into one bigger. It wasn't quick. One small strand the size of my bowstring took me almost an hour. I needed three strands to make the next sized rope. Then three of those. Then three more. All in all, it was tedious, annoying, and boring. For the sake of my hands and sanity, I took breaks often, and spent the time either fishing, working on the tower, or training Sara or the kitten, whom I'd named Shira. She was my shadow most of the time, though I could help but laugh at how she tried to play it off like she didn't care. Yet somehow, no matter where I was, I'd glance around and she'd be close, acting like it was pure coincidence that she was there as well.

When she opted to listen, I was constantly surprised at how well she picked up commands. I started with the basics, like stay, come, sit, heel, always associating a different pitched whistle along with the verbal command. Within the first day, she'd already figured out all the commands I'd taught her, while still remaining seemingly indifferent to the training. Cats, I swear. I'd noticed too a distinct difference in the personalities between Sara and Shira. Sara was quick to respond, quick to learn and follow commands, but it was almost robotic, wooden. She went without hesitation if I told her a command, but I got the distinct feeling of punching a command into a program, like I was working with a robot or something akin to that. Likely a side effect of the forced taming method. Shira was far more fluid, showing actual personality and habits. It was something to keep in mind for the future, if I lived that long

It took me most of three days, hundreds of curse words, and some serious cramping, but I finally finished the rope to my satisfaction. It was roughly twenty feet long, and my middle finger barely touched my thumb when I held it. The next morning, I used the rope I'd found in the wrecked cabin to fashion a harness for Sara, and secured my rope to it, then led her down to my chosen spot to start pulling rocks. Even with Sara's strength, it was a challenge, and it took a combination of digging with a stick, pulling, and prying against the biggest boulder to finally unseat it from the ground. Once out, it was easy enough to dislodge the rope from it, and force the boulder over the edge of the path via rolling and some more prying. Sara helped make quick work of it, and I was left with a 4 foot deep hole where the boulder had sat for however many years

From there, I spent another half day digging out even more, using a wide branch that I'd carved down into a make-shift shovel, along with my pickaxe when I could, until I had a hole almost as deep as I was tall. The ground was mostly soft, but a stick doesn't make for a good scooping device, and I was forced to break the dirt up with it, then scoop it out with my hands. It wasn't great on my back, and my wounded shoulder ached from the effort, but it would be worth it in the end. Finally satisfied with my work, I spent the rest of the day breaking branches off the oak tree on the other side of the trail, even going as far as securing my handmade rope around the tree and my waist, so I could climb high enough to break down all the branches. I followed up with the stone hatchet, and carved down the nubs as best I could, making the edge of the tree closest to the tower as smooth as I could. I actually had moderate success with it, though I couldn't eliminate them entirely

After a good night's rest, I was at it again in the morning. My next step was felling a tree of the proper width and height. It took me a bit, but I finally settled with another oak just down the river from my tower. Then came the extremely tedious process of chopping the damn thing down with nothing but a rock on a stick. It sucked. I mean, it really sucked. Really really REALLY sucked. The stone of the hatchet held its edge amazingly, but even then, a rock isn't a great tool for chopping, and it took me a solid three hours of smacking the base of the trunk before it finally fell, crashing heavily to the sand of the riverbank. The tree was a solid twenty or thirty feet tall, which was far more than I needed. Rather than go through the painful process of chopping down where I needed, I instead used a method I'd learned in survival school

First, I cut the branches off along the length I needed. Then, with some assistance from Sara, I lifted the cut end from the ground, positioning it a few feet off the ground on a handy boulder. This gave me an angle from the cut end down most of the length of the felled tree. From there, I managed a rough measurement of the length I needed, and at the point where I needed it cut, marked it. After stripping the bark with the assistance of my hatchet, I dug down into the sand near the tree, and collected clay, which tended to be in abundance near water sources. I layered clay around the width of the trunk on the side I wanted to preserve, ending right where I needed the cut to be.

Then I lit that bitch on fire.

Seriously. I started a fire right below the cut line, then stacked more and more wood on it, until eventually I had a cone of branches all around the area that I needed cut. Within ten minutes, I had a genuine bonfire going, and I left it to burn while I got lunch. The idea was actually pretty simple. The clay would preserve the wood on the side that I wanted to leave. It wouldn't stop the wood from burning completely, but it would help keep the integrity of the log. The side that wasn't clayed would burn just like a log in a fire, and give me a decently clean cut without exhausting myself. All I needed to do was occasionally go back and add more fuel, keeping a solid burn on the log, and occasionally add more clay as needed. With some time to kill, I caught a few fish, and headed back to my tower

I was maybe halfway down the riverbed, caught up in the joy of my own cleverness, when I felt it. A low tremor, so slight that I barely took note of it. But then I felt another, and another, getting stronger. I froze, and immediately started scanning the area. The sharp crack of a tree branch caused my head to snap to the tree line of the forest to my west. I focused on the area that I'd heard the sound, and when another crack snapped out, from the same area, I finally moved, sprinting for all I was worth to the base of my tower. I barely managed to dive behind a bush at the edge of the trail, when the source of the stomping burst out of the tree line.

It was a heavily scarred rex, it's pebbly skin almost pure white, though with streaks of red slashing across it in a terrifying pattern, making it look almost blood-soaked. Scars from battle stood out prominently across its face and body, heavy gashes that probably hurt like hell when it had received them. The beast was huge and terrifying, and entirely too close for comfort. I did absolutely nothing as I watched the gigantic creature stomp over to the burning log. It eyed the blaze, body cocked in a curiously bird like motion. It made a strange sound, a kind of moaning trill, before apparently deciding the fire wasn't worth it's time. Stomping along easily, it stepped past the felled log, and proceeded into the tree line on the other side of the river, disappearing quickly among the enormous trees.

I remained in place for what felt like an eternity, ears alert to any sounds, eyes tracking the trees, but it seemed to have moved on. I let out the breath I'd been holding, and shakily stood. I'd grown somewhat accustomed to the smaller creatures that made their home near my tower, like the dodo's and the turtles, but the rex had appeared out of nowhere. I guess I should be glad that it was so big, since the tremors of its footsteps alerted me long before I could see it. Glad and grateful. I sighed, and got back to work

* * *

So the good news is, the fire trick worked like a charm. It took the rest of the day to burn through, so I had to wait until the morning, but once the sun was up, I got to work. By the combined effort of Sara and I, we managed to get the log up the hill, and mostly into place. The bad news was, I couldn't lift the damn thing up to position it in the hole. Eventually, I managed to work up enough brain cells to figure out a method. I got the log into position, with one end at the edge of the hole. Then, I threw my rope down from the top of the tower to the log, tying it off at a decent angle. Then, I secured it to the harness on Sara, and had her pull, while I positioned it from the base. All in all, it took a lot of sweating, cursing, and splinters, but I finally got the damn thing in the hole.

Hooray

After that, it was back to manual labor. I spent the next several hours throwing dirt and rocks into the hole surrounding the log, packing it down as tightly as I could, then adding more, and more, and more. It was tedious. The log was down about 6 feet in the ground, so that translated to a lot of rocks and dirt. However, it paid off, as when I was finally satisfied with my work, the log was dead stable. I'd managed to get it between two rocks deeper in the ground, which helped add that stability, and despite taking two days of solid work, I finally had the frame I needed for a gate. I'd done a rough measurement at fourteen feet, so I had approximately 8 feet of log sticking out of the ground, like my very own goofy telephone pole. But, it was where I needed it, perpendicular to the tree on the other side of the trail, so my next step was building the gate

That proved to be the easier part of the endeavor. I didn't need nearly as big or heavy of material for the actual gate, and I got all the raw material for it the next day. Building the gate proved to be easy as well, since I'd already gotten acclimated to making rope (stupid fucking rope!), and was able to lash together everything nice and tight. It took another 3 days, but by the end, I had the gate built, hung, solid, and working. I'd worked out a locking mechanism, that while primitive, would work well. Another rope ran from the makeshift hasp, across the tree, and down, hanging easily next to the gate. I figured a passing dinosaur wouldn't think to pull on a random rope to open the gate, and I had a rough bolt assembly as well that I could lock at night to prevent the gate from opening on the outside. When open, it swung easily past the trail edge, allowing full use of the path, and was wide enough for Sara to pass through, albeit somewhat tightly. If I ever tamed any larger dinosaurs, I'd have to make the gate wider, but that was an issue for a later time.

That night, sitting in my shelter, I felt more secure than I ever had since waking up on the beach. While I still went through my usual processes to help avoid detection, I felt security in knowing that the only way up the tower was secured, at least from the smaller to midsized predators, while the larger beasts, such as the rex I'd seen, were too big to make it up the relatively narrow trail anyways. I was safe, for the moment anyways, and it was time to start planning a more permanent living situation. While I'd been on the fence about the material for my home, I'd eventually settled on wood, rather than going through the process of stone. From reading the journal, I'd found that the cementing paste needed for the mortar was hard to come by, and creating it required a substance the author called chitin, which apparently came from monstrously large scorpions and millipedes that frequented the island in different locations. I wanted security and peace of mind, but there was no way in hell I was going to try to fight a giant goddamn scorpion with nothing but a bow and a rock knife.

No thank you

After inspecting the tower, and coming to the conclusion that larger predators couldn't realistically make it to the top, it was easy to switch my mind and go with a log cabin design. It would be quicker, easier, expandable, and the raw materials were easily at hand. It wouldn't be a quick process. Based on the progress I'd made with the gate, the tools I had an hand, and my experience with woodworking, I estimated at least two months of building. While it seemed like a long time, and it was in my situation, there was no way around it. With better tools, I could potentially make it faster, but short of building my own forge and crafting an axe to use, that wasn't going to happen.

At that thought, I paused, and I could almost feel the light bulb pop up over my head as my line of reasoning started going down a different track. I suddenly laughed, causing Shira, who was sitting quietly next to me, to swivel her head over and look at me. I eyed her back, smiling.

"Hey Shira. Want to build a forge?" I asked jovially. The cat declined to answer. Typical

Fun fact about me. I have a lot of hobbies. I like things that I can build, and work with. Woodworking, computers, cars, models. I tend to jump between hobbies pretty quickly. One that I had been wanting to start up was blacksmithing. While I'd never swung a hammer at metal before, or even built a forge, it was something that I'd already been researching, wanting to eventually get into it. I'd watched a metric shitton of videos on YouTube, watching professionals craft knives, swords, and most importantly in my situation, axes. With everything going on, and constantly being busy, I hadn't given much thought to it, but in considering how to build the cabin, it had suddenly clicked to me. I had iron, a freaking ton of it, easily available up the mountain. More importantly, I had the hammer I'd found from the wrecked cabin. If I was clever, I might be able to pull it off.

If I could manage it, with an actual decent axe, I could cut down the time needed to build the cabin to a month, maybe less. That was a much nicer number. It would take another week, maybe a bit more, to put everything together. If I was wrong, and it didn't work out, it would only cost me a week. If I was right, I'd save a month. Pretty easy to make that decision. I settled down on my back, mind still racing, as I started making plans for what might be the most ghetto forge ever made.


	10. Forged in fire

The ankylosaurus was dead, and it wasn't my fault.

Ok, so maybe it was kind of my fault. Or I guess, mostly my fault. Fine, it was like, 90% my fault. I maintain that it wouldn't have died if it hadn't stepped in front of the rolling boulder, but how was I supposed to know it was going to decide to walk that particular direction. So some of the blame can be put on its spiky ass.

I guess I should explain. The morning had come, and I geared up to head up the mountain. The trip up was uneventful, though a bit more exhausting than my first hike, due to the pickaxe and hammer I lugged along. I found a decent sized iron veined boulder, and had spent over an hour whacking it with the hammer and pickaxe, trying to dislodge the iron from it. I'd had minimal success, and after seeing more of the giant vultures fairly close, I decided on a different course of action. The mountain was a decent slope, and there wasn't a whole lot between it and the river at the base of my tower. My logic was, if I could dislodge the boulder and get it rolling, it would end up at the base of the mountain, far closer to my tower, and I'd feel more secure with trying to break it down.

You can probably see where this is going.

Well, I'd dislodged it. I'd even taken care to make sure nothing was in the immediate path that I thought it would roll down, and with a combination of digging, strength, physics, and my pickaxe, I managed to get it unseated from its earthly socket, and rolling down the hill. I'd even cheered when it finally started moving, and picking up speed. Then I saw the ankylosaurus step out from behind a boulder, waddling along right into the path of the massive rock. The impact was like a sadistic game of bowling. I felt pretty bad when the boulder crashed into the beast. It didn't fling the creature, so much as just crushed it, though I was a little impressed with how much air the rock got from the sudden spiky hill it had encountered. On the bright side, after the obstacle, the boulder slammed heavily against another boulder at the edge of the river, smashing both in an impressive display of rock, dust, and sand. I hadn't really planned for that to happen, but it sure saved me some effort, so I couldn't argue with the results.

I followed the path the boulder had taken down the mountain, stopping briefly at the casualty of Newton's second law. The beast was dead, naturally, and the rock had torn bits of flesh and its armored shell off. On a whim, I collected as much of the spiky substance as I could fit in the bag I had slung across my shoulder, figuring that I could find some use for it. I also spent some time hammering more pieces off the carcass, filling the bag to the brim. Waste not, want not, and all that jazz.

That done, I continued on, finally arriving at the boulders final destination. The force of the impact had shattered the rock in several pieces, and I was able to sift through and eventually found a decent sized chunk of pure iron, with bits of rock still stuck in small crevices. Perfect for what I needed it for. With some more searching, I found a much larger piece of iron, weighing probably forty pounds. It was a bitch to lift, but I needed that as well, and taking both prizes, I returned to my tower, and started working on a forge.

The logic behind it was easy enough. Make a fire hot enough to heat the metal, then beat it into the shape I needed. Simple in logic, no so much in practice. A fire could potentially get hot enough for my purpose, but I had to do this in a bushwhack method, and charcoal is what I actually needed. Since I couldn't exactly run down to the gas station and collect some, I had to settle with option 2. Enter, my wonderful journal. There was a written process in there for creating charcoal, which was actually quite clever. Returning to the base of my tower, I collected as many branches as I could, piling them into a large cone shape, maybe five feet tall. Then, I layered the entire thing in mud. From top to bottom, completely enclosed. While I waited for the mud to dry, I started working on the actual forge.

It would be a cylinder, like a smoke stack. Because I had no way of creating a bellows for it, I needed to use the natural air current coming from the north to support air flow and keep it hot. After finding the windiest spot on my tower, and using clay from the river, I started forming a small but genuine barrel forge. The walls needed to be thick, as I didn't want to wait the weeks it would take for the clay to dry into a rough ceramic. Instead, I built up the walls about four feet tall by a half foot thick, in a fully circular design, then lit a fire in the middle to dry it out. Along one edge, I piled up more clay in a slight wall, adding another two feet into a barrier that would come in handy later. On the side where the wind would be coming in, I dug out a small entrance, then formed a cone shape outwards, to catch and funnel the natural wind into the forge, then lit a second, smaller fire to sit inside the cone and dry that out as well.

With that done, I returned to my charcoal stack, and found the mud decently dry. I pulled chunks at intervals on the bottom of the mound off, uncovering the wood beneath. I also pulled the top off, giving an air flow through the entire thing. Then, with some assistance from dried leaves and kindling, I lit the wood within on fire. It took some coaxing, but after about twenty minutes, the wood inside was burning cheerfully, and flames spurt occasionally from the open top. In about an hour, I'd take more mud, and cover every hole, choking the oxygen out of the mound, and turning the remaining wood into a rough, but capable, charcoal. It was a brilliant bit of primitive engineering, and once again I sent my silent thanks to whoever had written the journal.

At this point, the sun was sitting low on the horizon. I spent some time catching and eating dinner with Sara and Shira, briefly returned to the mound to cover the holes, then retired to my shelter to get some sleep. The next morning, upon breaking open the charcoal mound, I was pleased to see the grayish black color of charcoal. The process had worked like a charm. Using one of the ceramic bowls I'd taken from the cabin, I started transporting the charcoal to the forge. It took several trips, as the bowl wasn't very big, and I committed to making a basket or something when I'd have some time. Before filling the forge, I placed the last crucial item I needed for the process, a large stone roughly the size of the bigger iron piece I had. It was the biggest stone with a flat top that I could find, and I spent a bit making sure it was relatively level inside the cylinder, then placed the larger chunk of iron on top of it. That done, I started a good amount of charcoal, then started adding more and more to the forge.

It took almost two hours for all the charcoal to light and come to heat, but eventually, with the forge up to its top with charcoal, and the air flow coming in the cone, I had a fiercely burning forge. It took another two hours of heating, which turned out to be a pretty damn boring process. There wasn't much I could do besides wait for the iron to come up to temperature. Without any kind of tongs or gloves, I had to improvise, hence the rock in the center. Once I felt that it had been in there long enough, I pushed charcoal out of the way with a handy stick, exposing the cheerfully glowing piece of iron. Then, without much subtlety, I started beating the hell out of it with my hammer.

It wasn't a great solution, but unfortunately, it was the only one I really had. Without having any decent way to pull the large piece out of the fire, I needed to hammer it to the general form I needed while it was still in the fire. Thankfully I didn't think I could hit it hard enough to split the rock it was settled on, but each strike caused sparks to shoot out violently. Fortunately, I'd planned for that, and the barrier wall I'd built up worked as a decent block for the majority of the spark, though I still got hit in the arms with small pieces of slag and metal, adding small burns to my resume of injuries. There was little I could do but keep going at it, occasionally pausing to scoop more charcoal into the fire, and taking a break to let the iron come back up to temperature. I did this about four times, until the top of the iron was almost completely flat, like I wanted. Satisfied, it was time to get a bit more dangerous.

I'd built the forge up close to the edge of my tower. This had the advantage of air flow, but there was a second reason. It was a straight drop from the edge down to the river. Using my pickaxe, and trying to be as careful as possible, I broke open the wall, spilling burning charcoal and clay down the side of the tower. Then, without much subtlety, I hooked the pickaxe around the red hot piece of iron, and forced it off the side to slam heavily into the water of the river, sending an impressive plume of steam to shoot up, along with the sharp hissing of evaporated water. Grinning, I stood back and inspected my work.

To harden the iron, it needed to be quenched, and with an easily accessible stream nearby, why bother carrying water up? Work smarter, not harder. Now, once the iron was cooled, and with the only downside being that it was going to look wonky as hell, I had a fairly decent facsimile of an anvil. Ghetto indeed.

I descended the tower, and found my anvil in the stream. The constant flow of water had cooled it quickly, and I lifted the heavy piece from the stream. As I'd hoped, the top I'd beaten was solid, and mostly flat. It would be perfect to work with. The rest of the iron looked haphazard and wonky, but nothing was perfect when you're doing everything from scratch I suppose. Lugging the heavy piece back up the tower, I plopped it to the ground, and spent some time pushing the rest of the charcoal off the tower top into the stream. Tomorrow, I'd build a second, smaller forge to use for the axe head, but for now, I was beat, and didn't feel like hauling more material up the tower.

Instead, I started working on a set of makeshift tongs to use for the axe head. With the anvil, nothing I could make in the forest would work to lift such a heavy piece, but for something smaller like the axe head, I could improvise a little bit. I found a decently thick sapling, nothing too big, and spent some time chopping it down. Then, with the assistance of some rocks, I stripped the bark, exposing the green wood beneath. Leaving about a foot at the end, I wrapped rope tightly around the piece, then split the wood the majority of the way down, being careful not to let the split go past the rope into my handle. Once split, I wrapped a second rope half a foot above the second, after the split, to keep tension on the split, and with some experiementing, I found I had a fairly stable, if goofy looking, holder. In theory, once I was ready to use it, I could layer clay where the wood would touch the iron, and that would help prevent the wood from burning. Once I had the iron between the pieces, I could tighten another rope further up the split, and it should hold it in place. Theoretically, anyways.

The next day, I repeated my process on a smaller scale. I'd burned through most of my charcoal, so I started with another charcoal mound, and left it to dry while I made another smaller forge. It went by quicker since I learned a few lessons from the first one, and after a few hours, I had a charcoal bed burning, and started working. I wanted to jump right to making the axe head, but after giving it some thought, I figured out that I needed one more thing before I could make the type of head I needed. A simple punch, probably in a slight funnel shape, so I could create the hole the handle would fit through. So, I started there, taking another chunk of iron from the destroyed boulder, and started forming it.

Turns out, blacksmithing is a bitch. They make it look so easy on YouTube, so I guess I thought that it was because it was an easy task. It really isn't. I'd get maybe a dozen hits in before I'd have to replace the iron in the forge. On the bright side, my tongs worked like a charm, and I kept a supply of clay close by to keep the wood from burning. All in all, it took me nearly three hours of smacking the piece of iron to get it into the general shape I needed. I was sore, sweating, and my hands were cramped, both from holding the tongs and smacking the iron, and I still hadn't even started on the actual axe head. I wanted to stop for the day, but knowing that I'd have to rebuild everything kept me going. I heated the punch once more, and let it sit in the fire for another hour, getting fully up to temperature, before quenching it in a pot of water I'd hauled up from the river, a process called heat treating, which hardened the metal into a useable tool.

With the punch done, I started working on the axe head, and while it was still difficult, I found it to be somewhat satisfying, watching a chunk of iron turn slowly into the general shape of an axe. There was something distinctly calming about the process, tedious as it might have been. I lost myself in the work, forming the metal to the shape I wanted, then using the punch to work out a hole for the handle. My makeshift anvil handled the work amazingly, despite the relatively haphazard way I'd gone about making it. I'd dug out a small pit on a raised portion of the hill, so I could stand and have it easily accessible, and the day rang with the blows from my hammer. In hindsight, I was amazed that I didn't draw any attention from predators with the sound.

Finally, hours later, I'd finished forming the head, and heat treating it. It wasn't pretty by any stretch of the imagination, and without any way to file or grind the head, it wasn't going to be pretty either, but the shape was right, the hole was there, and I'd beveled the edges to hopefully help with sharpening it. That was going to be the most tedious part, but if I could find some stones of the right grit, I was confident that I could get an edge on it.

Without having to break the forge to get to the piece, I was able to leave it as is, and let the charcoal burn out on its own. The forge would be relatively useless tomorrow, and I'd have to create a new one if I needed to do any more metal work, but for now, I was satisfied. I wanted to get to work right away on sharpening it, as it would take a long while to get an edge on it with nothing but rocks. Collecting my fishing spear, I went and caught dinner, and filled my water skin along the way. With no easily available oil, water would have to suffice. Not as good, but it was better than nothing. After eating with Shira and Sara, I settled myself down, and started sharpening on a few rocks I'd collected during my walk to catch a fish. It didn't go fast. I'd beveled the blade as much as I could on the anvil, but to get a decent edge, it needed a whetstone, elbow grease, and lots of time. Fortunately, I had all three.

I sharpened for as long as I could stand it, then retired to my shelter. The next day was more of the same, taking breaks occasionally to play with Shira and Sara, catch fish, collect berries, or just relax. By the time the sun was setting again, I'd finally managed to put an edge on the blade, though it still wasn't sharp. It'd take a bit more effort, but I was nearly there. By lunch time the next day, I finally had it to my satisfaction. It wasn't a razor, but fortunately, axes shouldn't be razor sharp. A good keen edge on it was important, but a razor edge would actually cause it to break down quicker. My next step was a handle, and by comparison, that was a breeze. I took a branch of oak that had been left over from the gate, stripped the bark, and used the axe head to shape it how I wanted. Rubbing stones along the handle worked as a decent replacement for sandpaper. I split one end of the handle a few inches, then slipped the axe head over the split. Using my hammer, I forced a wedge into the split, securing the head in place, and after a bit more sanding with a rock, I had finally finished. After only five days, tons of work, two forges, at least a dozen burns, and a whole slew of curse words, I had my very own, homemade, ghetto as shit axe.

Hot damn I'm good.

Tomorrow I'd start felling trees. With an actual, legitimate axe handy, the work would go a lot faster. As I settled into my shelter with Shira, the new axe at my side, I felt something I hadn't felt since I'd been here. Hope. I'd figured out a method, albeit fairly painstaking, to create metal weapons. The axe was only the start. A knife or a spear would be next, and hell, if I really felt squirrely, I could forge a damn sword. Let's see a raptor try to take a piece of me if I had a fucking claymore to slap it around with. I had the capability to create weapons now, and that in turn, filled me with hope. Laying down, I let the feeling of hope consume me, and I drifted to sleep with a smile on my face.


	11. Of Cats and Men

Ok, so this is way overdue. Life has been beyond hectic on this deployment, and that combined with a fair amount of writers block, this took a lot longer than I wanted. I think I wrote and rewrote the first few paragraphs about a dozen times in as many days, and just couldn't get into the groove of it. But I finally managed to hit my rhythm, and so here ya'll go.

Also, this is a pretty long chapter. Damn near twice as long as the last. Consider it a slight compensation for taking so long.

* * *

It really was an ugly animal. Squat, fat, with an elongated snout, and long tusks hanging down from it's upper jaw. I'd assumed the creature was a pig when I'd first seen one almost three months ago, but after reading the journal, and seeing the beast in person, it was more like a mini elephant, though the trunk was far shorter. I'd seen a few of the bulky beasts before, but this was the first time I'd specifically gone after one to hunt. The author of the journal called the creature a Phiomia, and suspected that their only role in the ecosystem was as a food source for the insane number of predators on the island.

I inched forward through the brush, mindful of my steps. The creature was maybe 20 yards away, and still blissfully unaware of my presence. Though fat, I'd seen the creatures move, and chasing the elephant pig would prove to be more of a hassle than I wanted to deal with. Besides, why work harder when you can work smarter? A low noise came from my side, almost subaudible, and I held a hand out slightly, making a small sound in my throat. The noise ended abruputly, and I continued forward slowly, my bow held low in my hand.

It took another few minutes, but I finally managed to get within my already poor bow range. Kneeling slowly, I drew an arrow from its quiver, and knocked it. I waited patiently until the beast turned, sniffing at the dirt, exposing it's fat neck and side. Slowly, I drew back the string, and aimed down the shaft. As I exhaled, I could feel my heartbeat in my chest, and between one beat and the next, I released the arrow. It flew true, or at least as true as I could manage, and sunk cleanly into the soft folds of the creatures neck. It reacted immediately, letting out a squealing scream as it started to run, trampling the low brush under its feet.

"Go." I said, and the shadow beside me leapt into action.

I'd never had a cat growing up. My mother was allergic, so we always had dogs instead. With dogs, and I imagine cats as well, a pup takes almost a year to get to the gangly size of almost full grown, but still needs another year at most to fill in completely. Shira, who was easily the size of a puppy when I found her, took far less time. I mean, I was dealing with a prehistoric beast, so maybe it's the nature of their species, or it could be something to do with this remarkably strange island. I don't know, but what I did know is that it didn't take two years for Shira to get to be full grown.

It took her two months.

I estimated her weight at about 1200 pounds, and her shoulders were damn near the same height as my own. Despite her size, she was remarkably silent when hunting, swiftly moving through the underbrush with barely a whisper of sound. It was actually quite humbling, not to mention terrifying. A creature from another age, a predator unrivaled in its weight class. I was damn well glad she was on my side.

Shira darted forward in an instant, powerful legs pumping as it quickly closed the distance. Moving with a nimble grace, she casually jumped to the peak of a jutting rock formation, and leapt onto the moving elephant pigs back. The creature managed to let out another squeal, before Shira locked her jaws on the back of it's neck, and with one vicious, cracking shake of her head, the hunt was over.

I followed the path Shira had taken casually, slinging my bow over my back in a familiar motion. The big cat stepped back from the Phiomia, and settled back on her haunches to start grooming her fur with her tongue. I smiled at her as I reached the dead animal, and she purred in response, slanted eyes meeting mine, before continuing her cleaning.

Crouching down, I yanked the arrow from the creatures neck, and replaced it in my quiver, before putting my fingers to my lips and letting out a piercing whistle. Shira eyed me again, a low growl sounding in her throat. I eyed her right back.

"Big baby. It wasn't that loud." I said to her. The big cat growled again, deeper, before returning to her grooming.

I smiled as I inspected the kill. As usual, I was constantly amazed by how intelligent the cat was. At this point, if she started speaking back to me, I don't think I'd be too shocked. As it was, the interactions we had were clearly understood. To me, Shira wasn't a pet, she was my friend. I couldn't tell for sure if she felt the same way, but I suspected that was the case. I was her packmate, her partner. I'd saved her life, and she knew it, and respected me for it.

Or at least that's what I hoped was the case.

The ground rumbled, and I heard brush and small trees snap. Standing, I turned, and smiled again as Sara lumbered through the forest. The huge trike snorted in greeting, tossing her head back in what I'd come to understand as a sign of affection. She slowed as she reached me, and as usual, I petted her nose as I walked by, eliciting a purr from deep in her massive chest. Gripping one of her spikes casually, I guided her to the dead Phiomia's side, and after some work, managed to heft the beast onto Sara's back, securing the kill down with rope. Once done, I clicked my tongue, and started back, Sara lumbering along behind me, and Shira disappearing into the brush. I wouldn't see her, but I knew she'd be close. Maybe I should have named the cat Shadow instead.

We were close to the edge of the forest, so it only took a few minutes of walking to end up at the shoreline of the river. From there, we headed south, following the edge of the river, until the tower came into sight. A lot had changed since the first time I'd seen the place I'd eventually call home. At the base of the trail leading up the tower was another gate, secured in place by two logs sunk in the same manner as the first. The open side of the trail sported a half finished fence made of stout branches sharpened to points. It was my current project I'd been working on for the last few days, and I estimated another week before it would be completed to my satisfaction.

After leading Sara through the gate, I whistled, and waited a moment for Shira to amble out of the brush, and swiftly make her way across the sand and onto the trail. She walked gracefully past me, a soft purr coming from her chest as she approached. I lazily held out a hand, and as she passed, she brushed against it, her purr growing deeper. I smiled, before securing the hasp for the gate and continuing up. After passing through and securing the second gate, we finally reached the top, and as usual, I paused to appreciate the view of my hard work.

When I'd estimated a month at least for constructing my cabin, I'd taken a lot of different things into consideration. Finding the right sized trees, cutting and stripping them, hauling them, edging the corners, not to mention the actual effort of lifting them into place. Too, I'd had to consider the wear and tear on my axe, the effort all the work would have on my body, and the time I'd have to work with. I figured a month was the absolute quickest I could go, and it would likely kill me to get it done in that time.

I was wrong on pretty much all counts.

I'd started working on the cabin immediately after I'd finished the axe, and I have to say, I don't think I've ever had a project go so smoothly. Finding the trees turned out to be simple, just because there were so damn many of them so close to my tower. Finding trees of relative equal size was a breeze, and with the axe, cutting them down and stripping them turned out to be fairly simple. Sara made short work of hauling them, proving once again that size really does matter. Lifting them into place wasn't necessarily easy, but it wasn't as difficult as I anticipated either, due to a combination of physics, the massive tree next to the cabin, and Sara's strength.

Then there was the axe. Based on what I knew of forging, and metal in general, I'd believed the metal to be Iron, which wasn't exactly a far stretch. Iron is the most common metal on earth, so it was an easy conclusion to jump to. After using the axe for as long as I had, I didn't believe that any more. In fact, the way the axe maintained it's edge and durability, even after so much abuse, I wasn't even sure if the metal was something on the periodic table. Iron may be common, but it makes for a fairly poor tool, due to it's relative softness. That's why steel is used instead, an alloy of Iron and Carbon. The process I used to craft the axe head had the benefit of turning iron into a very mild steel, which would work as a fairly basic tool, albeit one that I'd have to sharpen often. I'd expected to have to sharpen the axe every night after only a few trees, but to my utter surprise, the tool remained sharp, despite the abuse.

That baffled me to no end. Even hardened steel from a legitimate blacksmith couldn't maintain an edge that long. There's no crafting ability on earth that would allow it to retain it's shape after that much work. Yet somehow, despite the impossiblity of it, the blade remained true, and while I couldn't explain it, I also couldn't complain about it, since it drastically cut my time and effort down. The only issue I'd encountered so far with the tool had actually happened only a few days earlier, where the handle snapped after a particularly hearty blow to a branch. It had taken me a few hours to craft a new handle for it, but I managed just fine. The journal proved to have little answers, so I settled with knowing how this metal worked, and accepted the small miracle.

I'd utilized clay as a sealing agent between the logs. The creek turned out to be a benefit in that regard, since clay is generally fairly prominant near waterbeds. Digging down only a few feet provided me with plenty, and I added a layer between every log, providing a fairly decent seal. It wouldn't be perfect, but fortunately it'd do the job just fine. Measuring anything out here is pretty approximate. I used rope a lot, and my own body as reference. For simplicity sake, I cut a length of rope down to the size of my foot, and that measurement was, you guessed it, a foot. Using that was a reference, my cabin was about 10 feet by 16 feet, with a wall in the middle to seperate it into two rooms. Crafting a door had been an interesting challenge, but I'd managed to hew down a few logs into relatively equal sized planks, and crafted a makeshift door with a hasp on either side to keep it in place. It wasn't pretty, but it provided a modicrum of safety and comfort, and wasn't that the important part?

Next, with the walls complete, and a door on it, I started working on the floor. Having learned a few lessons with creating the door, I was able to cut out even more planks. I'd thought of just leaving the floor as dirt, like the cabin I'd found, but decided against it. With a plank floor, It'd be more comfortable and homely, and I desperately wanted that. I'd planned ahead, and when doing the first four logs to be the walls, I had placed logs every foot in the dirt going from wall to wall, in preperation for planks to be laid out on them. Now that it was time for that, I cut and laid out planks over the entirety of the floor, until I was satisified that every gap was filled. Then it was another forging adventure, and I spent a day crafting nails to use to secure the planks down. It was a fairly boring experience, but the end result more than made up for it. The floor was solid, if not hardwood smooth, and I was happy with it.

When I'd first finished the roof, I'd used thatch to cover it. Since I finished the job much faster than I expected, I decided to finish the roof with tile instead, like the cabin I'd discovered in the woods. As vicious as it might seem, I knew the previous occupant of the cabin wasn't going to mind me taking the tiles off, so I spent a day making trips back and forth between my tower and the cabin, hauling as many tiles as I could. Half the roof had been destroyed by whatever beast had attacked him, but it still saved me a fair amount of work, and I was able to copy the design of the tiles with my own clay. I'd never thought my 9th grade pottery class would eventually be a part of saving my life, but damned if I wasn't wrong about that. I bet Mrs. Sanders would be so proud.

I created a kiln out of mud and clay, and spend weeks creating tiles, drying them next to fires, before firing them in the kiln, and finally placing them on the roof. If not for the tiles I'd taken from the other cabin, it likely would have taken a whole extra month to do them all, but since I was already able to cover half the roof with the tiles, it only took me about three weeks to complete. Below the tiles, I'd layered the roof with branches, packed as tightly together as I could manage. Before laying down each line of tiles, I'd layer the branches in that line with even more clay, before settling the tiles on top of them, providing a makeshift, but functional, sealant.

When I'd finally completed the roof, I'd stood back and just started at the creation I'd made, and cried quietly in pure joy. It had ended up taking close to two months, but if I'd chosen to keep using the stone hatchet, it probably would have doubled, or even trippled that timeframe. The cabin wasn't pretty per se, but it was sealed, quiet, and in my eyes, one of the most perfect sights I'd seen. It was perfect.

That had been two weeks ago. Since completing the cabin, I'd made one more trip to the other cabin, this time with Sara, and hauled back the table, chair, and cabinet. I figured there was no point in recreating work if I already had it available. I did, however, create my own bedframe, and stuffed the mattress bag full of moss and soft leaves, creating a comfortable, if lumpy, bed. In one corner of the cabin, I'd left a space open with dirt still visible, and I'd spent a few days making a fireplace similiar to the other cabin's, with stones taken from the beach.

Sealing it would have been a problem, if not for the wonderful journal, and a hefty amount of luck. I had quickly run through the grey sealing material the journal called cememnting paste while making the fireplace, and was debating using clay for the rest of the sealing need, but upon reading the passage on the paste again, I noticed something I'd missed before. The paste was most effective using the Chitin found on the nightmare insects on the island, but there was another substance that could be used, called Keratin. Enter, my insane luck. I'd felt terrible about killing the poor anklysaur on the mountain, but I'd still collected an entire bag full of the spiky protrusions on it's body. My plan had been to use them for defense, or maybe a kind of makeshift weapon, but it turned out that the spikes were made of 100% pure, clean keratin. After following the process in the journal, I was able to make more than enough cemementing paste to finish the fireplace, and even had enough left over to refill the jar I'd emptied.

I may not believe in a higher power, but damn, sometimes I think maybe I should.

I led Sara to an open space in front of the cabin, and spent a minute untying the Phiomia, before dropping it gracelessly to the ground. I clicked my tongue, and Sara snorted softly, before wandering off to graze on the fresh grass of the hilltop. Shira had settled herself down in her usual spot beneath the massive tree as I entered my home to drop off my bag and bow. I returned to the kill, and spent the rest of the day dressing the creature. I skinned it, taking advantage of the obsidian knife, and chopped through the meat with ease thanks to my axe. This was my first big kill since being on the island, and I was looking forward to eating actual meat, instead of the fish I'd grown accustomed to. It had been years since I'd dressed a kill, but I found that I still remembered enough to complete the job fairly quickly.

A concern I'd had with hunting was where to store the meat. The journal provided a design for a smoking box to turn meat into jerky, but I wanted to store the meat over a longer term, and since a refridgerator was somewhat out of the question, I needed another solution. As with some of the best ideas, mine came at a random time. As I'd been out collecting berries, I'd stopped by the stream next to my tower for a drink of the cold water there, and it hit me. I decided I was going to make a sealed box that would stay in the river. The water must flow from the snow peaked mountain close to my tower to the west, as the water was damn near ice cold, and would hopefully work to keep the meat from spoiling until I could dry it all into jerky.

The issue I'd encountered was how to seal it. I figured I could make a ceramic container out of clay, but without a way to seal the top, it would have to remain above the waterline, and the smell would attract scavengers quickly. If I kept it completely below water, it needed to be watertight. I'd decided on going with a solution that wasn't great, but would do in the short term until I could think of something else. I'd made a ceramic box, along with a lid. Once the box was full, I'd seal the lid on it with cementing paste, thus making it waterproof, and secure it below the waterline with rocks. I'd have to break the container open when I wanted more meat, which means I'd have to create a new container each time, but I figured if I cooked a good amount now, I'd have a few days to create the smoking box, and hopefully turn a good chunk of the meat into jerky for a longer shelf life.

After filling the container to it's brim, I sealed it off with the lid, and left it so the cementing paste could harden, which took about an hour by my count. I still had plenty of meat left over, so after disposing of the remains over the side of the tower, I hauled the meat and skin inside, and started cooking. I hadn't managed to forge out a makeshift grill yet, but I had a large, flat rock that I had settled into the fireplace, and after I had a fire going, I settled pieces of meat onto it to cook, and started working on a wooden frame for the hide I'd collected. I'd need to stretch the skin over the frame, and leave it to dry for a few days, but then I'd have a relatively decent leather substitute, and could potentially make some better clothes than I had. I was definitely looking forward to that.

I heard a scratching at the door, and I smiled slightly to myself as I stood. Opening the door, Shira delicately slipped inside, looking completely indifferent to me. It would have been more convincing, if I couldn't see her nose twitching at the smell of the fresh meat. I grabbed a plate from the cabinet, and piled a decent mount of meat onto it for her, before settling it on the floor for her. Shira's tail flicked once, before she settled down on her hind legs and dug in. The big cat usually disappeared at night to hunt for herself, but apparently she wasn't going to bother if food was provided for her. I'd have to be mindful of that.

"You wouldn't make a very good hunting partner if you get fat." I teased quietly.

Shira's tail flicked again, but she otherwise didn't react. Typical cats.

Settled in by the quiet crackling of the fire, we sat in companiable silence. I stored the cooked food in another ceramic container, and hoped that it wouldn't spoil too fast. The meat was tender, if fairly tasteless, but it was still delicious compared to three months worth of fish. If I could have a beer along with it, I'd probably cry again.

Cry again. God, I have cried a lot since I've been here, haven't I? When did I get to be such a pansy?

It took about an hour to cook all the meat, but once done, I stashed the container in my cabinet, then went back outside to bring the sealed container down to the river. I'd preplaced rocks in a portion of the river, and I spent a few minutes securing more rocks around and over the container. The water was freezing in the evening air, and I quickly finished, before rushing back up to my cabin and settling back before the fire.

In the morning, I'd start working on the smoking box, and get some jerky going. I'd have to figure out a way to get salt for the task, but I was hoping that the ocean down the river was saltwater. If so, I could potentially figure out a way to produce salt from it. Small comforts would make all the difference out here, and I was definitely ready for some kind of comfort. I considered the issue as I got myself ready for bed, and had a few ideas already as I settled back onto my mattress. As usual, my mind raced with a dozen different things that I wanted to do, but between the full belly of meat and the general exhaustion of the day, sleep came along quickly.

When dawn broke, I forced myself out of bed and zombie shuffled around my cabin for a few minutes, waiting for the haze of sleep to wear off. I swear, if I managed to find coffee beans out here, my priority was going to shift immediately to planting and farming them. I'd kill for a cup of coffee in the morning.

Without traditional coffee, I had to go with virgin coffee. Real easy to make, virgin coffee. You just take water, and don't add anything. Definitely not as satisfying, but if I imagined really, really, REALLY hard, I could make myself believe it was coffee.

No, not really. It was just water. Dammit.

According to the journal, the smoking box was most effective with a solid wood, ideally oak, so I set out to find some. I left Sara at the tower, but Shira shadowed me like usual as I set off down the river, my bow over my shoulder, eyes scanning for what I needed. If I could find the wood I needed, I'd return to the tower to get Sara before felling it. Sara was great, but not exactly fast, and I didn't take her along unless I needed her to haul something back home.

I needed to see if the ocean water was saltwater anyways, so we headed north up the river. As usual, Shira had disappeared into the forest, but I knew she was close. I passed a few of the massive turtles, and even saw a long necked Galimimus trotting along easily across the river. A single compy ran up to me at one point, but I kicked the little scavenger away, and it retreated back into the forest. It took about ten minutes of walking to reach the mouth of the river, and I easily recognized the spot of sand where I'd woken up. I shuddered slightly at the memory, but continued on, making my way to the beach.

Once there, I tasted the water, spitting it out immediately with a smile. Saltwater. Excellent. Across the water, I could still see the small island, though I noticed the red beacon was gone from the last time I'd seen it. I stared at the island as I spit some more, trying to get the salty taste out of my mouth. I could see movement, but it was too far away to make out any details. Something told me that island was important, though I couldn't tell why I'd think that. For whatever reason though, I knew, not just suspected, but knew that I had to go there.

Lost in thought, I almost didn't notice the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Warily, I started scanning my surroundings. Something had my instincts triggered, though I couldn't tell what. My hand moved of it's own accord, and I unslung my bow from my shoulder, still searching the area. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, and I couldn't figure out why I felt like I did.

A scream split the quiet air, and I definitely didn't jump like a little girl in surprise. Nope, stone cold over here.

My head snapped to the sound as my heartrate suddenly quadrupled. I quickly drew an arrow and nocked it, drawing it back to my cheek just as the brush seperated, and a woman rushed out. She looked haggard, wild even. Her black hair was a tangled mess, with leaves and moss adorning it like a messy crown, and she looked like she'd been rolling in dirt for the last two days, before performing a belly flop into mud. She was completely naked, though details were hard to notice through the muck.

Her gaze met mine, and she rushed to me immediately. I frowned, but released the tension on the bowstring slowly, rushing forward to her, her eyes crazed in what seemed to be fear.

"Help me. Please help me!" She babbled almost incoherently, rushing into my arms. I tried to juggle the sudden impact with the bow, but the motion surprised me too much, and my bow dropped as I gripped her in steady hands.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. Calm down." I told her, as I gripped my hands on either shoulder. "You're ok. It's ok."

Her gaze went to mine, and I frowned as my eyes met hers. The wild fear I'd seen before had seemed to disappear, and all I could see was a calm determination.

"Is it though?" She asked quietly, voice suddenly steady. I frowned deeper.

"What..." I started to say, but I was rudely interrupted by a sudden slamming pain in my right shoulder. I grunted in pain and surprise as I was thrown forward by the impact, the woman stepping gracefully out of my path as I collapsed to my knees in the sand, teeth clenched in pain.

I jerked my head up to meet her gaze, and she smiled almost sweetly at me. It took my agony adled mind a second to recognize the sudden sounds coming from behind me, and I twisted my head to see three men walking calmly through the sand to me. They were all dressed similarly, a combination of cloth and leather clothes. The man in the middle held a crossbow in steady hands, and beneath the wild hair and beard that adorned his face, I could see beady, black eyes that gleamed. His face was stoic, a drastic difference to the men on either side of him, who both sported sadistic grins. To his left was a gangly man, with a spotty beard and dirty red hair. The man on his right was bigger, and fairly ugly, with a wide mouth and a huge nose.

They reached me in seconds, and the middle man nodded easily at the woman.

"Excellent work Akari." He said calmly, his voice deep, gravelly. She smiled at him in return, but didn't answer.

I groaned as my mind worked through what had happened.

"She was a feint. Get me to drop my guard, concern for fellow human and all that. Vicious." I said to myself. The man grunted in answer. I groaned, and twisted, sitting myself on the sand heavily. My bow was easily within reach, but the man already had another arrow on his crossbow. There was no way I could grab it and shoot before he could.

"You must be new. Hardly anyone falls for that anymore." The ugly man said, grinning viciously.

I eyed him, frowning.

"Suppose you're right." I said. "Course, I imagine you smelled me a mile out."

That wiped the grin from his face. The man growled, then lashed out, kicking me squarely in the face, shoving me back. I grunted at the pain of it, but compared to the agony of my shoulder, it was nothing. I spat a few times to the side, saliva mixed with blood, and met his gaze again with a smile of my own.

"You're right, that was rude. I'd say I have a big mouth, but that seems a bit insensitive."

The man growled again, even as the redhead snorted out a short laugh. Nose glared at the other man, who covered his mouth with a hand.

The bearded man held out a hand, still stoic. "Enough." He said. "We've got him. He can joke all he likes. He's ours now."

"Like hell I am." I growled to the man, meeting his glare with my own. The redhead laughed again, cocky in his confidence. I tried to match his laugh with another insult, but I felt sluggish, slow. The pain in my shoulder pulsed, and a sudden thought struck me. The pain was focused on the point where I imagined a crossbow bolt was stuck in me, but I could feel a heat radiating from the wound.

And it was spreading outward.

Shit.

"Narcotic?" I asked wearily. Even speaking felt wrong, like trying to talk with my mouth full. My tongue was dry, and didn't want to move right.

The bearded man nodded. "Like I said." He said quietly. "Ours now."

I gritted my teeth, trying to fight the rising panic in my chest. I struggled to lift myself from the seated position I was in, but between the weakness and the sudden shaking of my limbs, I only managed to fall back to my ass heavily, eliciting another laugh from the idiot brothers.

"What are you trying to do?" Nose asked, laughing. "Think you can run from us now?"

I met his eyes, and despite the pain, the spreading heat, and the panic in my chest, I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Not at all." I said as calmly as I could. "I'm just stalling."

Nose managed a slight frown in confusion, before a thousand pounds of pissed off sabertooth slammed into his back, a living missle of muscle, teeth, and claws. Shira snarled as she rode the man to the ground, her jaws locking onto his neck just like the phiomia, and with a twist and the cracking of bone, there was suddenly only 3 enemies to deal with.

The scene seemed to freeze for an eternity, as the leader and Red stared in surprise and horror at the gruesome scene, before Akari finally let out a scream, and suddenly everything snapped back into motion. Their attention was on Shira, and numb or not, I wasn't letting my friend fight alone. I snapped up my bow, quickly drawing an arrow from the quiver. It was hard, since I could barely feel my fingers, but I managed, and as quickly as I could, drew and fired an arrow.

The bearded man had already raised his crossbow to Shira, but my arrow slammed firmly into his lower back, eliciting a cry of pain from him as he stumbled forward. Shira pounced, claws extended, and struck across the back of his thigh as she darted past him. Blood flew in an arch, and I could actually hear the tendons severing as he collapsed to the ground. I drew another arrow, but the redhead had already started moving, and the kick he delivered to my face was much stronger than Nose's, or maybe I was just too weak from the poison. I dropped to the ground, stars bursting into clarity as my vision tunnelled. I struggled to clear my eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening as the bow dropped from my hands.

I heard more screams, and another crunching snap. Footsteps, snarls, grunting. I lost myself in the haze for a moment, before the tunnel vision finally started to let up, and I was able to shake my head and sit up slowly. The pain in my shoulder was gone, which confused me, but then I realized that I couldn't feel my back, or my chest. The lack of pain was a drug all in it's own, but the spreading numbness wasn't a good sign. I twisted my head, searching, and my eyes locked on Red, or what was left of him anyways. If I had to guess, I'd say that Shira had landed on his chest, and torn his throat out, judging by the massive scoop of flesh missing from his neck. Deep claw marks had torn through his leather top like paper, and blood seeped out, soaking into the sand. His eyes were glazed over in death, and a shuddred slightly.

"Asshole." I muttered, and twisted around. Shira was nowhere in sight, and neither was the Akari. I imagined she must have tried to run, which wouldn't do her much good. I shuddered again. Not that they deserved anything less, but damn, I would not want to be hunted by one of these cats. I'd fought a half starved one, and barely survived it. Shira was full grown, well fed, and well adapted to hunting. The woman didn't stand a chance.

I tried again to get myself to my feet, and after struggling for what felt like an hour, I managed to get myself unsteadily upright. Groans of pain made me finally realize I had other senses besides sight, and my gaze went slowly to the bearded man, still on the ground, his leg a mess of blood. He was laid out on his stomach, his crossbow just out of reach of his hand. It looked like he'd been trying to crawl to it. I stepped unsteadily over to him, and stepped easily on his outstretched hand, stopping him.

He twisted his head enough to look up at me, his dirty, unkempt face glaring hatefully at me.

"Kill...You..." He muttered, delirious.

I leaned over slowly, trying to breathe evenly so as not to pass out, and lifted the crossbow in shaky hands. It was roughly made, but functional, with a metal catch acting as a trigger. Nothing more than a lever secruing the string back, but judging by the force the bolt had hit me with, it was much stronger than my own bow. The bolt was still in the groove, a grey stain darkening the tip of the shaft. Unsteadily, I aimed the weapon down at the man, a low growl coming from my throat.

"Not today." I whispered. My finger tightened on the catch, and the beach was suddenly quiet once more.

It was another minute before Shira came ambiling back through the forest, looking decididly pleased with herself. I had already collapsed back to the sand, breathing heavily, and once Shira saw that, the smug expression changed to concern. She ambled quickly over to me, nudging me with her huge head. I groaned, but used the handhold provided by her fur to make my way to my feet again. She made a low sound in her throat, and nudged me harder, working herself down and under me. I flailed around weakly, until I managed to get myself positioned onto her back. I still held the crossbow in my hands, but a strap of leather proved to be a sling for the weapon, and I slung it over my shoulder, before leaning forward and laying out on the big cat's back, gripping her fur as hard as I could.

From there, everything kind of blurred together. I don't remember much of the trip back, and only vaguely do I remember unlatching the hasp's for my gates. I don't remember the climb up the tower, but I do remember the sound of concern Sara made when I saw her. I remember stumbling through the door to my cabin, and I remember the dull shock as I collapsed to the wooden floor.

And then.

Fade to black.


	12. Trust

I woke in pain.

Which, come to think of it, seemed to be an all too common occurrence these days.

The dim sunlight coming into the cabin greeted my eyes as I slowly came to. My body was a mess of pain, overwhelming pretty much any other sense. I made some very unmanly sounds as I slowly, delicately, lifted myself from the floor. The pain was mostly centered on the wound in my shoulder, but apparently my face wanted to get in on the action too, likely from the repeated kicks. A deep cramp across my left side finished off the trio of misery that was my body, and I found that the crossbow must have shifted when I fell, and I'd been passed out on top of the weapon.

Groaning deeply, I managed to shift myself to a sitting position, breathing heavily, trying to discipline my mind into ignoring the pain. It didn't work that great, but between several deep breaths, and the deep set focus of my military mind, I managed to cover the pain, and leaned back against the cabin wall.

The scream I let out from the sudden piecing pain in my shoulder was definitely not military minded, and I gritted my teeth as the agony overwhelmed me. Gasping in pain, I managed to twist my head enough to see the bolt still sticking out of my shoulder. I mentally slapped myself for forgetting, and spent a few moments trying to reach behind myself enough to pull it out. Though I could touch the source of agony, I couldn't reach far enough to get a grip on it, and I finally dropped my arms in defeat, gasping for air. Every motion hurt, and I punched the floor in pure frustration.

As I sat there, trying to figure out a way to get the bolt out, the door nosed open, and Shira poked her massive head inside, eyes concerned. I met her gaze, still breathing heavily.

"Hey girl." I muttered, making a weak motion with my hands. "Thanks for the help back there."

The big cat eased herself into the cabin, staring at me curiously. I shrugged, and leaned to the side, showing her the wound, and the arrow still in me.

"Think you could bite this for me?" I asked, half sarcastically, glancing over my shoulder at her.

Shira cocked her head, obviously not understanding. I sighed, and spent a few minutes trying to explain without success. Finally, sighing again, I eased myself to her, and leaned back, poking her in the mouth with the bolt. She finally seemed to understand, and I felt the arrow shift as she clamped down on it with her teeth. I gritted my teeth as the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through me, but instead of waiting, I figured I'd get it over with, and jerked myself forward quickly.

The bolt released itself from my skin with a sickly, sucking sound, and I couldn't get enough breath to scream again. My upper body and head just kind of sank to the floor as the agony took over again, and I spent a few moments just breathing, trying not to pass out again. After a few failed tries, I finally managed to lift myself to my hands and knees, then finally stumbled to my feet. Shira made a sound in her throat as she watched me shuffle to the cabinet, and pull out some cloth, along with the Aum cream.

Cleaning the wound was difficult because of the location, but I think I managed to wipe up most of the blood, and I was able to barely reach the puncture with my fingers, spreading the off white substance liberally on it. There wasn't an easy way to bandage the wound, but I was able to bundle some cloth onto a longer strip of the fabric, and wrap it under my armpit, and across to my other shoulder. Gritting my teeth again, I leaned against the cabin wall, putting pressure onto the wound, and sat there grimacing for a few minutes, trying to stop the fresh flow of blood.

I stayed that way as long as I could stand it, before finally collapsing into my chair. The pain was slowly fading, leaving me only the aches and cramp. Sighing, I grabbed my water skin and took sips as I considered the situation I was in. The attack had been unexpected, though in hindsight, I damn well should have expected it. My mind wandered to Lord of the Flies. People, in general, are assholes, held back by nothing more than a thin fabric of humanity. Society and religion tell them that murder is wrong, theft is wrong, rape is wrong. For the most part, we all grow up with the understanding that these things have consequences, and so we refrain from doing them. Most people don't even need society to tell them that these are wrong, they just know that for a good society to exist, we can't just take what we want.

A life, a possession, a virtue.

But not everyone has that mentality. Take away society, take away rules, take away consequences, and the worst of humanity is going to emerge. My mind went to that bearded man's eyes. Flat, hard, dark. Dead. That was a man who didn't have limits. He took what he wanted, and because of his strength, both of body and character, he could get away with it.

I suddenly felt a surge of satisfaction at having eliminated such a man.

Akari though, was a mystery. I'm a good judge of people, always have been. She had acted the part of a terrified woman in this jungle perfect. So perfectly, in fact, that she caused me to completely drop my guard. The sudden shift had caught me completely by surprise, but there was still something strange in her eyes. Something off. The man had praised her for getting me to drop my guard, but there was no satisfaction in her eyes, no joy. She'd smiled at me, but the smile hadn't touched her eyes. Almost like she had still been acting a part, though not for my benefit. If I was right...

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. It didn't matter now. Akari was dead. The bearded man was dead. The redhead and big nose were dead. Somehow I'd managed to survive, despite the pain, grogginess, aches and cuts, I was still standing, figuratively, while they'd all fallen. The attack had been vicious, and I still shook slightly at the thought of it, but it had been a major lesson for me. The biggest risk to me on this island wasn't the vicious, enormously powerful dinosaurs.

It was man.

Somehow, that didn't surprise me.

I spent the rest of the day resting, drifting in and out of sleep. I knew precious little about the narcotic in my system, and had no clue how long it would take to feel normal again. Everything seemed slightly dulled, muted. I was still able to focus my mind, which was fortunate, but my body was sluggish, almost like it took extra time for signals to go from my brain to my limbs.

Still, it was better than being dead, so I couldn't argue too much. I changed my bandage twice during the day, slept for hours on end, and by the time morning came around the next day, I felt somewhat better, though still not a peak. Whether it be the wound, blood loss, or the narcotic was up in the air, but I could walk and work, so that's what I did. I never had managed to collect the wood I needed for the smoking box, and I didn't feel up to trying to chop a tree down with my shoulder wounded, so I spent the day instead doing small tasks around my cabin. I weaved three baskets out of frawns, intending them to be able to carry charcoal or brush. I spent an hour clearing grass and brush from a space a few yards from my cabin, intending to eventually build a small workshop with a forge and worktable, along with extra storage for tools I'd eventually craft.

The work didn't feel great with my wounds, but it did help in stretching muscles out, and by the time the sun was sitting low on the horizon, the aches in my body were mostly gone, even if the dull throb from the wound in my shoulder still pulsed with every motion. Sometimes you have to lose a little bit to win I suppose, and despite the pain, I was in a good mood. I played with Sara and Shira for a while, before eating dinner, then spent the rest of the early evening creating arrows for my new crossbow.

The weapon was primitive, but functional. The string was worn, but still strong, and now that I had more time to inspect it, I could already see ways to improve upon the design. As I carved down wood for arrows, I had half a dozen ideas for ways to improve on the design, and in my head, I was already crafting the items I'd need to reinforce the weapon and increase its power. It would take some trial and error to forge a piece of the metal springy enough for my needs, but if there was one thing I had an excess of, it was time. I finished the arrows, and closed up the cabin for the night, before retreating to the comfort of my bed. Sleep took me almost instantly.

When my eyes snapped open, it was the darkest part of the night. I lay completely still, fighting off the half asleep feeling as I listened intently, my mind trying to process what had woken me. I hadn't heard the angry, coughing bellow from Sara, or the vicious snarl from Shira, but something had pulled me from the deepest part of sleep, and I wasn't about to ignore it and go back to sleep.

I was focused on listening so much, that when the knock came on my cabin door, I jerked viciously in surprise and panic, simultaneously trying to jump out of bed while jerking away from the sound. The resulting motion ended with me tripping over my own feet and face planting into the wooden floor, the impact knocking the wind out of me while shooting lightning bolts through the wound of my shoulder. I gritted my teeth against the pain while I forced myself to my feet, rushing to the cabin door. I snagged the crossbow from the table, quickly setting the string and placing a bolt in, before crouching and leveling the weapon at the door.

"What do you want?" I called out, keeping the weapon stable against my shoulder. My hands shook slightly, more from the pain still radiating from my shoulder than from fear I think, but who knows.

I heard a rustling sound outside the door, before a familiar feminine voice answered. "To talk. That's all. I'm unarmed."

The voice didn't calm me. My body tensed further in recognition. I stood, and eased to the door, letting out a sharp whistle as I moved. I waited a moment, then slowly eased the door open with my spare hand, the crossbow still steady against my shoulder.

Akari stood easily outside the door, hands out to her sides, her face calm and collected. She eyed me curiously as I kept the weapon pointed at her, and didn't seem to mind Shira pacing quietly behind her. I could see Sara's huge head watching curiously from her usual sleeping spot, but the huge beast hadn't lifted herself from the ground. I eyed the woman warily, taking in what I could. She'd washed the dirt and grime from herself, and was wearing threadbare clothes of a similar design of my own. Without the mud and muck covering her, she was actually fairly attractive, which only put me on guard more. What's that old saying? "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me?"

"Why are you here Akari?" I asked carefully, quietly. "Furthermore, how are you not dead?"

The woman smiled slightly at that, and took a slow glance over her shoulder at Shira. The big cat watched her, but made no move to attack. In fact, Shira seemed completely at ease with Akari, which only made me more nervous.

"Your sabretooth is well training," Akari said quietly, calmly. "She's smart, and I convinced her that I wasn't a threat. She let me go."

"Not a threat." I growled, inching closer to her, my finger trembling against the arrow catch. "You almost got me killed. How much more of a threat do you need to be?" I didn't recognize my own voice, full of anger and spite. It wasn't a voice I was used to hearing.

A look came over Akari's face that drained my anger. It wasn't sadness, or despair. I don't know that I could recognize the feeling in that look. It seemed like remorse, regret, anger, fear, all rolled into one. It was a look that damn near broke my heart, despite my own feelings towards her.

"I had no choice." She said quietly, eyes downward. "They took my choice from me."

I watched her carefully, watched for any sign that she was misleading me, but I couldn't see anything besides the sadness and misery radiating from her. I didn't want to trust her again, but from what I could tell, she was on the level. My mind went over how I'd been confused about her actions earlier, and I realized that if nothing else, I could get some answers from her. The risk was worth the reward, despite my trepidation towards her.

I sighed, and lowered the weapon, taking the tension off the catch. She met my eyes as I opened the door further, motioning for her to come inside.

* * *

Akari watched from my chair as I got the fire going again, focusing on the task as my mind raced. Once the fire was cheerfully going again, I stood and leaned against the wall, eyeing the woman. She sat primly, back straight with her hands in her lap. She didn't look like someone who had tried to kill me not two days ago. She looked more like a woman who would sit at a fancy bar in a nice dress, sipping red wine and complaining about the vintage.

"Alright," I said quietly, watching her. "What's your story?"

She smiled faintly, eyes downward as she traced trails over her hand. She was quiet for a moment before she finally spoke.

"I've been here for months. I woke up naked on the beach, no memory of how I got here. I was lucky enough to find a group that had banded together to survive, and we formed a tribe of sorts. I was out collecting berries when Akkon and his thugs found me."

"Akkon?" I interrupted. She met my eyes and nodded. "The big man you killed, with the beard."

I nodded, grunting a response. She continued.

"They knocked me out, and when I woke, I was tied to a post in their camp. They kept me there for weeks, using me for..." She stumbled on her words, wincing slightly, "Their amusement. I managed to talk my way out of the situation, and I joined up with them." She shuddered slightly, a motion too subtle to notice if I hadn't been paying attention.

I nodded slowly, understanding. "You cooperated. You knew if you kept fighting, on an island like this, your situation would have only gotten worse."

She nodded in response. "I knew the only chance I had was to gain their trust. I didn't want to die."

I eyed her, before speaking quietly. "What happened with me?"

Her eyes dropped at that. "It was Akkons idea. He wanted more people as slaves to work for them. He knew it was more likely that someone would drop their guard for a woman than a man. He made it clear to me what would happen if I didn't go along with it." She met my eyes, and I could see tears welling in them. "I am so sorry. I didn't have a choice."

I watched her carefully as tears dripped down her cheeks. The remnants of my anger faded. Maybe I'm a sucker for a pretty face, or maybe it was just being able to interact with another person, but I believed her.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I understand. It's fine."

"No it's not." She replied shakily. "You could have been captured, and it would have been on me. I know what it's like to be captured by animals like them. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She started crying in earnest, repeating the apology, her hair covering her face as she sobbed. I sighed again, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"We're all in a shitty situation here. I get it. We'll move past it."

Her shoulders shook as she cried, but she leaned her head against my hand as she choked out words. "You saved me from them. There's no way I could thank you enough for what you've done." She met my eyes again. Her face was blotchy, and tear streaks covered the redness of her cheeks. "Thank you." She whispered again.

I nodded, and stepped away, thinking, while I let her collect herself. I waited for a few minutes until she stopped crying, before speaking again.

"Ok. Your tribe. Where are they?"

She shook her head, weariness showing on her face. "I don't know for sure." She gestured to the east, towards the mountain I'd been up. "I think we're on the other side of that mountain, but it's hard to tell. I haven't seen anything familiar since I was taken."

I debated my options for a moment. As much as Akari seemed to be on the level, I still didn't trust her completely. She couldn't stay here with me permanently, but I couldn't just say leave and potentially have her death on my head. Getting her back to her tribe would answer if her story was true or not, and more importantly, it would give me contact with a group of people I could potentially ally myself with, or even join. Numbers mean a lot in a survival situation, and most importantly, I could potentially get more information on my situation with this island. If nothing else, it was worth the risk for the potential to find people I could trust on this island.

Lastly, I was curious. I knew I wasn't leaving this island any time soon. I needed to learn everything I could to find a way out. I wasn't going to do that by myself.

I sighed, and motioned to my bedroom. "Sun won't be up for a few hours yet. There's a bed in there, get some sleep. We'll leave in the morning."

She eyed me, curious. "Why? Why would you help me?"

I met her eyes again, smiling slightly. "Because it's the right thing to do."

She watched me for a moment, then shook her head, chuckling quietly. "It's hard to believe in kindness after what I've seen." She smiled up at me, the expression bringing cheer to the small cabin. "Thank you."

I nodded, and she stood, and made her was warily to the bed. She sat easily on the mattress, and looked like she was going to lay down, before she paused and spoke again. "I'm sorry, I never asked. What's your name?"

I stood for a moment, watching her while I thought. As much as I wanted to have that connection with this woman, I couldn't bring myself to trust her. Names are the first line to trust, and I didn't know if I wanted to put that line out yet. Still, trust is a two way street. If she was being honest with me, having someone to trust, a friend, required faith. I sighed. Faith was never my strong suit.

"My name isn't important." I said quietly. "Getting you home is. Get some sleep."

She watched me carefully, then smiled faintly, nodding. Akari laid back as I sat in my chair, and waited for morning to come.


End file.
